Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone- a DUMM Story
by Gimblewolf
Summary: Life is boring for young Harry Potter, but then his family gets harassed and stalked by a large hairy postman determined to give him a letter and his entire world changes for the stupider. Join Harry on his descent into madness. (Crackfic, swearing stupidity and I am so sorry).
1. A day in the life of Vernon Dursley

**Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone: A DUMM story.**

**A.N. Oh god I am doing this again okay so this is basically just a silly interpretation of the first HP story if you are looking for surprises you probably wont find them here. If you are looking for giggles I hope you find them here and yes I did copy some dialogue cos I'm lazy.**

Mr and Mrs Dursley were proud to say they were perfectly normal and would be the last people to be involved in anything strange or mysterious ignoring the fact that normality is a shifting paradigm that is mostly based on your personal viewpoint and upbringing. What they mean to say is they would not be involved in anything outside of their suburban conservative views you know things like taxing big corporations, proper funding for public schools and talking to minorities.

Mr Dursley is a fat sack of shit in charge of a company which produces drills named Grunnings. He is a hefty man whose weight has often been described as 'grotesque' by several doctors (private doctors of course) and has a large moustache which is soaked in the grease of a thousand sausages. Mr Dursley once asked his workers to refer to him as 'big boss' which was unanimously refused.

Mrs Dursley was a thin blonde whose face looks like it is perpetually sucking a lemon and has twice the usual neck giving her the look of something George Lucas no doubt furiously masturbated to during the production of the Star Wars prequels. The pair and a half also had a blonde pork roast called Dudley and still loved him despite the damage he did to his mother's lower quarters on the way out. The Dursleys had everything they wanted though to be fair they don't really have lofty wants Vernon usually wanted a hot dog and Petunia just wanted vaginal reconstructive surgery but they had a secret.

It was not the secret of who it was that emptied their considerable bowls in the local flower bed after a particularly damaging curry, which caused the aged local priest; Father O'Donovan-O'Malley (who volunteers to manage the flowerbed) to have a heart attack after being assaulted by the smell and sight of the giant pile of human waste. His body was eventually moved after paramedics stopped either laughing or vomiting as the priest fell face first into the brown mountain.

No they were worried someone might find out about the Potters. Mrs Potter was Mrs Dursleys sister and they had not met for several years, well as far as she knew Lily Potter happened to be a master of disguise she once disguised herself as Petunias husband for a week and no one noticed (or cared). Mrs Dursley pretended she didn't have a sister which was odd because she had a younger sister who will not be named or mentioned in this story after this point, because Mrs Potter and her husband were as undursleyish as you could be, meaning thin and attractive. The Dursleys knew the Potters had a small son and wanted nothing to do with him.

How they knew that fact considering Mrs Dursley had not met her sister in years is still up to debate, I guess they could occasionally share the odd tense phone call, maybe found out from her parents but I'm fairly sure they are dead or had a wild animal break into their house with a greeting card tied around its neck I don't know it's unclear but I know which I want it to be.

The story begins on a boring as fuck Tuesday morning where the Dursleys woke up in the usual fashion, Vernon with a burp and a fart and Petunia falling to the floor from the force sent from Vernons ass, neither expecting anything unusual to ruin their day. Mr Dursley grunted and panted as he attempted to buckle his belt in vain before deciding to add yet another notch while Mrs. Dursley was attempting the heimlich on her son who had swallowed a watch.

Neither noticed the local cycling asshole who never shuts the fuck up about how great cycling is crash into a lamp-post distracted by the large and possibly drunk tawny owl that crashed through a neighbours window.

"Little Shit" grumbled Mr Dursley as he put on his now baby vomit covered watch before testing the structural stability of his car by climbing into it. If he had not spent the usual twenty minutes attempting to shift the driver's seat back, though at this point it was in the boot, he would have noticed a rather stern looking cat checking a map, then reading a road sign before getting chased by a bulldog up a tree. The feline then seems to remember that it is not actually a cat summons a brick and launches it at the dog. Vernon was way out of the street when that happened but he would have laughed he hates that fucking dog.

At the edge of town his usual thoughts of brunch were driven out of his mind by an unusual sight. As he sat in the usual traffic jam (he was living close to London after all) adding to the local pollution by farting up a storm he couldn't help but notice a lot of strangely dressed people and not the normal weirdos he would see. People in cloaks Vernon hated people dressed in weird clothes almost as much as he hated watery gravy, it did not help that cloaks were similar to the muumuu his employees kept buying him for christmas.

They were basically hinting that pants sizes were going to stop soon if he kept gaining weight.

Vernon drummed on his steering wheel in frustration causing ripples on his wrist fat, he figured it was a stunt and Vernon for all his many faults did support LGBTQ rights, like all of us he experimented in college, University and made out with that hot guy in accounting during the christmas party but he thought this one was a bit too far. The traffic moved on and Mr Dursley arrived in McDonald's parking lot to get his custom order the Vernon special (which is just everything on the breakfast menu in a large wrap).

Once Mr. Dursley arrived at work and completed his daily test of the elevators weight capacity he set about his work. Mr. Dursley always worked with his back to the window as he found it difficult to concentrate when people in the office opposite pointed in awe and laughed. Had he been facing the window he would have noticed the endless stream of owls flying overhead. Most people have never seen an owl and now it seemed like they were gathering enmasse to overthrow the human race.

Vernon however had an owl free morning. He yelled at 5 different people to help him up after his chair broke causing an earthquake scare through the lower levels of the building. He made several important phone calls, mostly to fast food places, and yelled at the vending machines. He was in a very bad mood until lunchtime which always cheers him up and with a speed you would not believe possible from a man his size Vernon barreled through the Grunnings lobby towards the Danish Bakery across the street.

He had forgotten about the weirdos in cloaks until he saw a group of them gossiping in front of the bakery entrance, due to his mass and momentum was not able to stop and knocked several through the bakery doors while the others in the group didn't seem to care and went back to chatting. Ten minutes later after eating everything including the raw pastry mix Vernon (or 'overskægget med den bundløse mave' as he is known to the staff) exited the bakery and managed to catch parts of the conversation the weirdos in dresses were having.

"Yeah I had that just rub some cream on it and it will clear up, Oh yeah the Potters and their son Harry".

Vernon stopped dead but then his heart started again and he farted in fear he looked back at the gossiping assholes wanting to say something but thought better of it, plus he was standing in the middle of the road causing several angry commuters to yell at him and beep their horns.

Returning to his office yelling at his secretary not to disturb him, which his secretary did not find odd he usually asked not to be disturbed between 1 and 2 so he can enjoy his hourly Ben and Jerry's. After his ice cream binge Vernon attempted to dial home but as always his fingers were too fat, he was about to get his special dialing wand before he changed his mind. Slamming the receiver down he stroked his moustache dislodging a chicken wing he had somehow missed. Potter wasn't such an unusual name not like some of the bullshit names people call their kids these days, He wasn't even sure his nephew was even called Harry it could have been Halloumi fries or Ham sandwich. There was no point upsetting his bitch of a wife as she became unbearable when her sister was brought up. He didn't blame her, he still couldn't understand for what reason she needed that kidney she stole from Petunia.

He found it no harder to concentrate on drills that day as he never really did normally anyways, he was so worried that they would not refill the vending machines that he walked into two people on his way out of the building one flew through a window across the street and the other fell to the floor.

"Watch it asshole!" he grunted as the tiny old man rose to his feet "Don't worry about it, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy, happy day!". And the old man hugged around the middle or at least gave it his best shot. Mr. Dursley has a lot of middle.

Mr. Dursley froze rooted to the spot, this wasn't the first time he had been hugged by a stranger on the street in fact there is a very attractive homeless man known as Handsome Leonard who hangs around the area often cuddling strangers which no one seems to mind. He may not be a smart man or particularly attractive but Vernon knows a racial slur when he hears one.

So doing what anyone does when presented with a racist remark in the middle of the street punch the moron who said it. Vernons meaty fist hit the old man in the violet cloak sending him rolling across the floor. Had there not been a timely shoulder rub from Leonard Mr. Dursley would have followed up with a body slam.

As pulled into his driveway, the undercarriage of his car scraping across the floor, he noticed a stern looking cat sitting on his garden wall. He didn't like living animals much (cooked or deep-fried animals definitely) and idly wondered what a cat would taste like before ridding himself of that thought. Vernon is a man who is oddly proud of having never eaten pussy.

Mrs. Dursley had an entirely normal day and she told him over dinner for four all about how their next door neighbours daughter is a whore and how Dudley ruined another kids birthday party by eating the entire cake. After Dudley had been put to bed because his parents were sick of him the couple sat down in the living room to watch tv.

"And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation's owls have behaved very unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern." The newscaster allowed himself a grin. "Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. How does it feel to be on regional TV Jim" "Well, Ted," said the weatherman, "I can't answer that but I can tell you how it feels to be on your wife". After the fistfight broke out the Dursleys decided to go to bed. Petunia fell asleep right away but Vernon was unable to sleep something about the days events kept him awake and worried. Though it could have been that chilli. Shrugging off his worries Vernon jumped into bed, which sent his wife through the ceiling, and went to sleep.

As Mr. Dursley fell into an uneasy sleep and his wife tried to not call into a coma the cat outside showed no sign of tiredness though it did show signs of boredom. The cats eyes stared unblinking at the far corner of Pivet Drive as though waiting for something. Although its eyes darted quickly to the entrance waiting for the takeaway it had ordered.

A man suddenly appeared on the corner the cat had watched, appearing so suddenly it was as though he popped out of thin air however he was not silent as he knocked over several bins which had been left out it was bin collection day after all.

Nothing like this man had ever been seen on Privet Drive since about a week earlier when he got lost. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt and just happened to also be tucked into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore. Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome. He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to realize he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, now paying a delivery driver. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, "I should have known." He should have watched for the bulldog barrelling toward him.

After a five-minute struggle he finally managed to get the dog off his leg and as if by magic sent it flying into a bin and down the lane before returning to rummaging through his many pockets. Several moments went by as the old man emptied his pockets among the items removed were an anvil, a rubber chicken, a book of coupons, a pocket watch, several signed photos of Patrick Swayze and an all-weather tire.

Dumbledore finally found what he was looking for, a silver cigarette lighter, opening the item and raising it up in the air he clicked causing it to light. With a frown he put the lighter back in this pocket and drew an identical item from another pocket. Trying again when clicked a nearby light flew out of the lampost and into the silver trinket. Repeating the action several times the street became engulfed in darkness. Slipping the out-putter back into his cloak he set off down the street towards number 4, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. Or at least attempted to because of how dark it was he misjudged the wall and fell on his ass.

"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall." He turned to smile at the tabby attempting to regain some sense of dignity from the floor, but it had gone. Instead he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled. "How did you know it was me?" she asked. "My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat order chinese food." Dumbledore was correct most cats order Italian, Lasagne mostly. Cats love Lasagne.

"I was starving been sat on a brick wall all day," said Professor McGonagall popping some sweet and sour pork into her mouth. "All day? When you could have celebrated? I must have passed a dozen feasts, parties and orgies on my way here." Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily. "Oh yes, everyone's celebrating, all right," she said impatiently. "You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no even the Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their news." She jerked her head at a neighbours living-room window, one of the ones not watching the news anchor and weatherman fight. "I heard it. Flocks of owls, shooting stars, drag races Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent - I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He was always a stupid fuck." "You can't blame them," said Dumbledore gently. "We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years." "I can and will blame them," said Professor McGonagall irritably. "People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors and body fluids." She threw a sharp, downwards glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't, so she went on. "A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You -Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really has gone, Dumbledore?"

"It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore. "But I must confess I didn't really check ".

"As I say, even if You-Know-Who has gone -" "My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this 'You- Know-Who' nonsense - for eleven years I have tried to persuade people to call him by his proper name: Voldemort. Or pencil dick" Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two lemon drops, seemed not to notice. "It all gets so confusing if we keep saying 'You-Know-Who.' I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name." "I know you haven 't, said Professor McGonagall, sounding half exasperated, half admiring. "But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know- oh, all right, Pencil Dick, was frightened of." "You flatter me," said Dumbledore calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have." "Only because you're too senile to use them.".

Dumbledore didn't seem to hear that last point. "The owls are nothing next to the rumors that are flying around. You know what everyone's saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?" It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had waited on a cold, hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain that whatever "everyone" was saying, she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true since she couldn't be bothered to look into it herself. Dumbledore, however, was trying to remember his own birthday and did not answer. "What they're saying," she pressed on, "is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumor is that Lily and James Potter are dead. " Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped. "Lily and James I can't believe it." Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the knee. "I know" he said heavily. Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on. "That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Potter's son, Harry. He couldn't kill that little boy. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Harry Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke and that's why he's gone. Dumbledore nodded glumly. "It's true?" faltered Professor McGonagall. "After all he's done, all the people he's killed, he couldn't kill a little boy? It's just astounding, of all the things to stop him, but how in the name of heaven did Harry survive?" "We can only guess," said Dumbledore. "We may never know and frankly I don't really care" Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it and said, "Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?" "Yes," said Professor McGonagall. Dumbledore shook his head the hairy bastard never could keep his mouth shut.

"And I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you're here, of all places?" "I've come to bring Harry to his aunt and uncle. They're the only family he has left now.". Except for his other aunt.

"Not these abominations of nature" cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four. "Dumbledore you can't. I've watched them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got this son I saw him eat 3 garden gnomes. Harry Potter come and live here!" "It's the best place for him, probably I'm not an expert or anything" said Dumbledore firmly. "His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he's older. I've written them a letter."

"Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand him! He'll be famous a legend, I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Harry Potter day in the future, there will be books and poor fanfiction written about Harry, every child in our world will know his name! Soaked underwear will be thrown in his direction everytime he leaves the house ".

"Exactly," said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any boy's head. Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he won't even remember! see how much better off he'll be, growing up away from all that until he's ready to take it or give it?" Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and then said, "Fuck, you're right, of course. But how is the boy getting here, Dumbledore?" She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Harry underneath it. Considering the things she's seen this incredibly powerful man with dementia do it was a safe bet.

"Hagrid is bringing him" Dumbledore said. McGonagall rubbed her eyes "Oh for Fucks sake Albus".

A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky. Down the street the pair watched a large motorcycle smash into a building. It was at this moment the two noticed another noise growing louder at a rapid pace. A deep scream could be heard hurtling towards the ground and a large mass hit the car in the Dursleys driveway sending a wave of empty fast food containers to fly into the air.

The two approached the now groaning giant mass before Dumbledore smiled. "Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?".

The giant hairy man known as Hagrid groaned attempting to shift the gearstick that lodged itself past his prostate "Ah borrowed it from young Sirius Black sir". Well a more accurate version of events would be upon finding the burning wreckage of his best friends house and assuming everyone was dead Sirius Black fell to his knees tore off his shirt and screamed to the heavens then started hitting the floor with his fist as tears flowed. So he didn't hear when Hagrid said he was going to borrow his bike.

"No problems, were there?" "No, sir - house was almost destroyed, but I got him out all right before people started looting the place. He fell asleep when we stopped for a quick drink." Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning. "Is that ?" whispered Professor McGonagall.

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "He'll have that scar forever." Dumbledore said his voice filled with sorrow.

"No not that" Said McGonagall sharply then pointed at the babes arm "I meant that". On the 1 year old's arm was a tattoo of the grim reaper riding a motorcycle. The pair stared for a second before craning their necks up towards the giant. "I er had a coupon and he seemed cool with getting a matching set".

After a few moments of silence Dumbledore decided to get this over with, taking the bundle from Hagrid. Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid Harry gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Harry's blankets, and then came back to the other two. For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid's shoulders shook and he patted his chest with a closed fist, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out and the electrical engineer sent out to find out why the power went out in Little Whinging was supremely confused.

"Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and party."

"Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, "I'll be takin' Sirius his bike back." Sirius wouldn't be getting his bike back and Hagrid knew this. Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid noticed the police car in the next street over no doubt responding to the call of a motorbike coming through the roof. Hagrid then ran off into the night. Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once, and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange, the lights then exploded due to the sudden surge in electricity and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could easily see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four.

"Good luck, Harry," he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone.

A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled over inside his blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside him and he slept on, not knowing he was special, not knowing he was famous, not knowing he would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that he would spend the next few weeks being treated for pneumonia. He couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Harry Potter Beastmaster".

**A.N. And there you have it I dont really have anything to say just going to try and think up more fat jokes if I decide to continue this. **


	2. Snakes out there dis big

_**A.N. So here I am again so goddamn tired just read okay. love you goodnight.**_

Chapter 2

Nearly ten years had passed since the Dursleys had woken up to find their half-frozen nephew on the door step and the wreckage of Vernons car, but Privet Drive had hardly changed (after the nesscesary repair work). The sun rose on the same empty beer can filled front gardens and lit up the brass number four on the Dursleys' front door or it would have if it hadnt been stolen for the third time that month; it crept into their living room, which was almost exactly the same as it had been on the night when Mr. Dursley had seen that fight between newscasters meaning littered with empty biscuit packets.

Only the photographs on the mantelpiece really showed how much time had passed. Ten years ago, there had been lots of pictures of what looked like a pink sack of potatoes attempting to eat whatever was near it - but Dudley Dursley was no longer a baby, and now the photographs showed a large blond boy breaking his first bicycle, getting refused entry to a ride at the fair due to weight restrictions, fighting over a piece of fried chicken with his father, being given the Heimlich by his mother. The room held no sign at all that another boy lived in the house.

Yet Harry Potter was there asleep for the moment after living with the wild animals known as his family he learned to sleep through most things but he would not be asleep for long as his fat shit of a cousin had fallen down the stairs.

Harry heard his cousin smash through the glass door leading to the foyer then the sound of the frying pan being put on the stove. He rolled over and tried to remember the dream he had been having. It had been an interesting one. There had been a flying motorcycle in it along with a hairy giant trying to escape the police. He had a funny feeling that actually might have happened.

As Harry mused on that thought his blonde harpy of an aunt screeched through the wall "Are you up yet?" she demanded. "Nearly," said Harry. "Well, get a move on you sarcastic little shit, I want you to look after the bacon, I don't want to go to the emergency room because Dudley shoved his face in the pan again, I want one good birthday in this house. "

Harry groaned, if the staff at his school couldn't keep Dudley away from the kitchen what chance did he have. "What did you say?" his aunt snapped through the door. "Nothing, nothing" he replied before adding in a low whisper "Bitch".

Harry got slowly out of bed and started looking for socks. He found a pair under his bed instead of in the sock drawer where he is supposed to keep them, after pulling a spider off one of them, put them on. Harry was way too used to spiders, because the cupboard under the stairs was full of them, and that was where he slept. He did wish Dudley would stop spending his pocket-money on Tarantulas though.

When he was fully dressed he stepped over his injured cousin into the kitchen. The table was almost hidden beneath all the eggs sausage toast and assorted breakfast items he took an idle glance at the giant pile of presents Dudley had received. It looked as though Dudley had gotten the new computer he wanted, not to mention the second television and the racing bike. Exactly why Dudley wanted a racing bike was no mystery to Harry, as Dudley was very fat and hated exercise unless of course it involved punching somebody. Dudley's favorite punching bag was Harry, but he couldn't often catch him. Harry didn't look it, but he was very fast and would likely have to get faster now Dudley is motorised.

Perhaps it had something to do with living along two giant fat people, but Harry had always been small and skinny for his age. He looked even smaller and skinnier than he really was because all he had to wear were old Dudley's baby clothes.

Harry had a thin face, knobbly knees, black hair, and bright green eyes. He wore round glasses held together with a lot of Scotch tape because of all the times Dudley had sat on his face. The farting was overkill.

One of the only things thing Harry liked about his own appearance was a very thin scar on his forehead that was shaped like a bolt of lightning. He had it as long as he could remember and the second question he could ever remember asking his Aunt Petunia was how he had gotten it. The first question was where he got the tattoo of the grim reaper riding a motorcycle.

"Dear Lord you are annoying," she had said. "Just shut the fuck up I am way too hung over for this". Shut the fuck up - that was the third rule for a quiet life with the Dursleys. The first two just involve the fridge. Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen lured in by the smell of breakfast as Harry was turning over the bacon. "Comb your hair!" he barked, by way of a morning greeting. About once a week, Uncle Vernon looked over the top of his pancakes and shouted that Harry needed a haircut or a wash or some friends. Harry must have had more haircuts than the rest of the boys in his class put together, but it made no difference, his hair simply grew that way plus he really didn't want it short.

It had been a dream of Harry's, ever since finding that strange book hidden in his aunts wardrobe to have hair like the man on the front cover, long and flowing.

One day he will look like Fabio.

Though to Vernon Dursleys credit Harry had not actually washed or showered that morning.

Harry was frying a second round of eggs by the time Dudley got escorted into the kitchen a little drowsy due to blood loss. Dudley looked a lot like Uncle Vernon i.e. like a big fat person sans moustache. He had a large pink face, not much neck, small, watery blue eyes, and thick blond hair that lay smoothly on his thick, fat head. Aunt Petunia often said that Dudley looked like a baby angel made of lard - Harry often said that Dudley looked like a statue of a pig made of lard.

Harry put the heaps of egg and bacon on the table, which made him wonder why they just didn't use troughs. Dudley was attempting to count his presents. Maybe it was the falling down the stairs or the blood loss but Dudley gave up quite quickly and decided to just ask.

Dudley wasnt all that smart. "How many are there?" He oinked.

"Thirty-six, I counted them myself" Vernon replied between mouthfuls. Vernon was proud of his ability to count over 30.

"Thirty-six," he said, porking up at his mother and father. "That's two less than last year. " It was a bold lie Dudley had no idea how many presents he had last year.

"Darling, you haven't counted Auntie Marge's present, see, it's here under this big one from Mummy and Daddy. " Vernon swore under his breath he would never be able to count to fourty at this rate.

"All right, thirty-seven then," said Dudley, going red in his fat face. Harry, who could see a huge Dudley tantrum coming on, decided to get the fuck out of there for when Dudley flips the table which happens more often than it should.

Aunt Petunia obviously smelled danger or it could have been Vernons body odour, either way she couldn't be bothered to deal with Dudleys bullshit today quickly saying "And we'll buy you another two presents while we're out today. How's that, porkchop? Two more presents. Is that enough?"

Dudley thought for a moment. It looked like it hurt but that could have been the concussion. Finally he said slowly, "So I'll have thirty, thirty. " "Thirty-nine, you moron," said Aunt Petunia feeling tired. "Oh. " Dudley sat down heavily breaking his chair and grabbed the nearest parcel from the floor. "score. " Uncle Vernon chuckled he loved watching people get hurt.

At that moment the telephone rang and Aunt Petunia went to answer it while Harry and Uncle Vernon watched Dudley unwrap the racing bike. Aunt Petunia came back from the telephone looking both angry and worried. "Bad news, Vernon," she said. "Mrs. Figg's broken her leg. She can't take him. " She jerked her head in Harry's direction.

Dudley's mouth fell open in horror, but Harry's heart gave a leap. Dudley had broken her leg the other day and Harry was hoping he would get in trouble for it. Normally every year, Harry was left with Mrs. Figg, a mad old woman who lived two streets away. Harry hated it there. The whole house smelled of regret and Mrs. Figg made him put on dresses and compete in beauty pageants. To this day he only ever placed second.

"Now what?" said Aunt Petunia, looking furiously at Harry as though he'd planned this. Harry knew he ought to feel sorry that Mrs. Figg had broken her leg, but it wasn't easy when he reminded himself it would be a whole year before he had to sing don't cry for me Argentina again.

"We could phone Marge," Uncle Vernon suggested. "Don't be stupid, Vernon, she hates the boy.". Petunia wasnt wrong the two absolutely hated each other often devolving into a fist fight. Always ends in a draw Harry can't punch hard enough to get through her fat and she cant move fast enough to catch him.

"What about what's-her-name, your friend - Yvonne?" ."On vacation in Majorca," snapped Aunt Petunia. This was a lie Petunia didn't actually have friends.

"You could just leave me here," Harry put in hopefully (he'd be able to watch what he wanted on television for a change (some anime bs) and maybe even go on Dudley's bed).

Aunt Petunia looked as though she'd just swallowed a lemon, then again she always looked like that. "And come back and find the house in ruins?" she snarled. "That was one time," said Harry, but they weren't listening. "I suppose we could take him to the zoo," said Aunt Petunia slowly, "and leave him in the car". "That car's new, he's not sitting in it alone, not after last time "

Dudley began to cry loudly. In fact, he wasn't really crying it had been years since he'd really cried. He had no emotions outside of malice and hunger but he knew that if he screwed up his face and wailed, his mother would give him anything he wanted to shut him up.

"I don't want him to come!" Dudley yelled between huge, pretend sobs. "He always spoils everything!" He shot Harry a nasty grin, he was well aware that Harry only ruined most things.

Just then, the doorbell rang "Oh balls they're here!" screeched Petunia frantically and a moment later, Dudley's best friend, Piers Polkiss, walked in with his mother. Piers was a scrawny boy with a face like a rat. He was usually the one who held people's arms behind their backs while Dudley hit them. Dudley stopped pretending to cry at once.

Half an hour later, Harry, who couldn't believe his luck, was sitting in the back of the Dursleys' car with Piers and Dudley, on the way to the zoo for the first time in his life. His aunt and uncle hadn't been able to think of anything else to do with him, but before they'd left, Uncle Vernon had taken Harry aside. "I'm warning you," he had said, putting his large purple face right up close to Harry's, "I'm warning you now, any bullshit and you'll be eating through a straw". Vernon often threatened people with physical violence. "I'm not going to do anything," said Harry.

The problem was, strange things often happened around Harry and it was just no good telling the Dursleys or the police he didn't make them happen.

Once, Aunt Petunia drunk on her afternoon wine had taken a shaver and cut his hair so short he was almost bald except for his bangs, which she left because she passed out. Dudley had laughed so hard he shat his pants. Harry had not been awake for this after years of hearing his aunt and uncle argue into the night had learned to sleep through anything. Next morning, however, he had gotten up to find his hair exactly as it had been before Aunt Petunia had sheared it off.

Another time, Aunt Petunia had tried to force him into a revolting old dress of hers as he had spilt coke on the dress he was supposed to wear. The harder she tried to pull it over his head, the smaller it seemed to become, until finally it might have fitted a hand puppet, but certainly wouldn't fit Harry. Aunt Petunia had decided it must have shrunk in the wash and she was too drunk to care, to his great relief, Harry wasn't forced to attend Little Miss Surrey that year.

But today, nothing was going to go wrong. It was even worth being with Dudley and Piers to be spending the day somewhere that wasn't school, his cupboard, or Mrs. Figg's ass-smelling living room trying to hit those high notes.

While they drove, Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia bickered. The two often argued it was amusing to watch. "Will you EVER stop farting? Is that even a remote possibility Vernon" The pair continued until something distracted them. This time it was motorcycles.

". . . roaring along like maniacs, the asswipe" he said, as a motorcycle overtook them the rider flipping him off. "I had a dream about a motorcycle," said Harry, remembering suddenly. "It was flying. " Uncle Vernon crashed into the car in front. He turned right around in his seat and yelled at Harry. "WHO TALKS ABOUT THEIR DREAMS? NO WONDER YOU HAVE NO FRIENDS!" Dudley and Piers sniggered. "I have friends" said Harry defensively. He didn't but his stage persona 'Harrietta' was friends with most of the girls on the pageant circuit.

But he wished he hadn't said anything. If there was one thing the Dursleys hated even more than his asking questions, it was his talking about anything.

It was a very sunny Saturday and the zoo was incredibly crowded with families when they arrived Petunia had taken over driving after Vernon got punched in the face by the driver of the car he crashed into. The group bought ice creams at the entrance, though the smiling woman hadn't heard their inital order due to the cash register noises she head in her heard after seeing two whales approach.

Although the group essentially dislike each other they were having a good time in each others presence and shared a laugh at a gorilla mascot approach and dance about. It was when Dudley was bodily picked up and hauled off to the top of a nearby building that they realised it wasnt a man in a costume. Luckily the zoostaff knew exactly what to do, it was not the first time this particular gorilla has escaped. Someone really had to start locking those cages. From experience they knew the best way was to give him what he wants otherwise some major shit would go down.

It was unfortunate for Dudley that today that gorilla had a hankerin for some spankerin.

Maybe it was because of Dudley received a giant ape sized portion of ass paddlin but Harry had the best morning he'd had in a long time. He was careful to walk a little way apart from the Dursleys so that Dudley and Piers, who were major assholes wouldn't fall back on their favorite hobby of hitting people. They ate in the zoo restaurant Uncle Vernon became furious when Harry refused to finish Dudleys ice cream, it wasnt the one he was cramming down his gullet it was the extra he ordered for his raw ass.

Harry felt, afterward, that he should have known it was all too good to last.

After lunch they went to the reptile house. It was cool, dark and mysterious in there, with lit windows all along the walls. Behind the glass, all sorts of lizards and snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of wood and stone. Dudley and Piers badly wanted to see huge, poisonous cobras and thick, man-crushing pythons.

Frankly neither of them really wanted to reflect in depth on the desire to gaze upon long thick snakes. Dudley once told Piers he had a dream where they were kissing and didn't know what it meant; they havent talked about it since.

Dudley quickly found the largest snake in the place as though instinctively drawn to it. It could have wrapped its body twice around Uncle Vernon's car and crushed it into a trash can but at the moment it was fast asleep.

Dudley stood with his porky nose pressed against the glass, staring intently at the glistening brown coils. "Make it move," he whined at his father. Uncle Vernon tapped on the glass apparently pretending to be a postal worker, but the snake didn't budge. "This is boring," Dudley moaned. He shuffled away ass still sore.

Harry moved in front of the tank and looked intently at the snake. He wouldn't have been surprised if it had died of boredom itself no company except Samuel Jackson. The snake suddenly opened its beady eyes. Slowly, very slowly, it raised its head until its eyes were on a level with Harry's. It winked. Harry stared. Then he looked quickly around to see if anyone was watching.

Harry considered what to do. On the one hand the snake was clearly coming onto him and he didn't want to give it the wrong idea by reciprocating on the other he wanted to see what would happen next.

The snake jerked its head toward Uncle Vernon and Dudley. It gave Harry a look that said quite plainly: "How fat can you get? ". "I know," Harry murmured through the glass, though he wasn't sure the snake could hear him. "You should see them eat its a massacre" The snake nodded vigorously. "Where do you come from, anyway?" Harry snake jabbed its tail at a little sign next to the glass. Harry peered at it. Boa Constrictor, Brazil. "Was it nice there?"

The boa constrictor frowned then jabbed its tail at the sign again and Harry read on: This specimen was bred in the zoo. "Oh, I see - so you've never been to Brazil?". The raised an eyebrow.

Wait snakes don't have eyebrows well anyways it gave Harry a look that said "You just read the fucking sign". As the snake shook its head, clearly it was not going to get a phone number, a deafening shout behind Harry made both of them jump. "DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT IT'S DOING!". Dudley came waddling toward them as fast as his still throbbing ass would allow.

"Out of the way, asshole," he said, punching Harry in the balls. Caught by surprise, Harry fell hard on the concrete floor. What came next happened so fast no one saw how it happened one second, Piers and Dudley were leaning right up close to the glass, the next, they had leapt back with howls of horror.

Harry sat up and gasped; the glass front of the boa constrictor's tank had vanished. This had happened right as the constrictor had launched itself towards the pair. Dudley sensing danger pushed Piers in front of the snake and he was swallowed whole.

As the snake slid swiftly past him Piers muffled screams filling the air, Harry could have sworn a low, hissing voice said, "Brazil, here I come, call me." The keeper of the reptile house was in shock he could not believe this has happened again. "Shit shit I am so getting fired" he kept saying.

The zoo director himself made Aunt Petunia a cup of strong, sweet tea while he apologized over and over again. Piers and Dudley could only gibber. As far as Harry had seen, the snake hadn't done anything except attempt to digest Piers. By the time they were all back in Uncle Vernon's car, Dudley was telling them how it had nearly bitten off his leg, while Piers was telling them about how much it hurt when the zoo staff jumped on him to get him out. But worst of all, for Harry at least, was Piers calming down enough to say, "Harry was flirting with it, weren't you, Harry?"

Uncle Vernon waited until Piers was safely out of the house (and paid him money not to tell his parents about being eaten) before starting on Harry. He was so angry he could hardly speak. He managed to say, "24 inch meat feast, 40 wings, 5 chips" before he slammed the phone down then told him to go to his cupboard. This upset both Harry and the takeaway owner who answered the phone; normally Vernon is so nice when he calls.

He'd lived with the Dursleys almost ten years, ten miserable years, as long as he could remember, ever since he'd been a baby and his parents apparently died in that car crash. He couldn't remember being in the car when his parents had died but he was one. Sometimes, when he strained his memory during long hours in his cupboard, he came up with a strange vision: A giant blueberry exploding he had no idea what to make of it. He couldn't remember his parents at all. His aunt and uncle never spoke about them, There were no photographs of them in the house only the words 'Lily wuz here' written in permanent marker on the wall.

When he had been younger, Harry had dreamed and dreamed of some unknown relation coming to take him away, but it had never happened; the Dursleys were his only family. Except for his other aunt. Yet sometimes he thought (or maybe hoped) that strangers in the street seemed to know him. Very strange strangers they were, too. A tiny man in a violet top hat had slipped his number to him while out shopping with Aunt Petunia and Dudley. After asking Harry furiously if he knew the man, Aunt Petunia had rushed them out of the shop without buying anything. A wild-looking old woman dressed all in green had waved merrily at him once on a bus, but that particular woman was homeless and had mental issues. A bald man in a very long purple coat had actually shaken his hand in the street the other day and then offered him a ride in his van and candy. The weirdest thing about all these people was the way they seemed to vanish the second Harry or the police officers tried to get a closer look.

At school, Harry had no one. Everybody knew that Dudley's gang hated that odd Harry Potter in his baggy old clothes and broken glasses, and nobody liked to disagree with Dudley's gang and that was just the staff the kids were far worse.

Kids suck.

_**A.N. next time more weird dribbles from my brain.**_


	3. Ignoring letters never turns out well

_**A.N. Hey guys its me, the author still tired I am going to try and stick to a weekly schedule for these chapters but hope you are all chuckling I know I am. Really creeps out the bus driver though.**_

Chapter 3

The constant and graphic messages from the Brazilian boa constrictor earned Harry his longest-ever punishment. By the time he was finally allowed out of his cupboard again, the summer holidays had started and his waste bucket was full to the brim. Dudley however first time out on his racing bike, crashed through old Mrs. Figg's living room window. Didnt even recieve a single punishment even the police thought it was awesome.

Harry was glad school was over, but there was no escaping Dudley's gang, who visited the house every single day. Piers, Dennis, Malcolm, Gordon and Moose were all big and stupid, but as Dudley was the biggest and stupidest of the lot, he was the leader. Mostly the others were rightfully terrified he would eat them, despite this they were all quite happy to join in Dudley's favorite sport: Harry Hunting though for differing reasons. Moose for example thought Harry looked like the girl who took 2nd place that he fell for when his family attended that beauty pageant. If anyone asked about it he definitely did not cry at her soulful rendition of Whitney Hustons classic 'I will always love you'.

This was why Harry spent as much time as possible out of the house, wandering around alone like a loser and thinking about the end of the holidays, where he could see a tiny ray of hope. When September came around for the first time in his life, he wouldn't have to attend the same school as Dudley. Dudley had been accepted at Uncle Vernon's old private school, Smeltings. Piers Polkiss was going there too. Harry, however, was going to Stonewall High, the local all girls school. Dudley thought this was very funny. He was right.

"They stuff people's heads down the toilet the first day at Stonewall," he told Harry. "Want to come upstairs and practice?" he seemed to forget they had a downstairs toilet. "No, thanks," said Harry. Harry was so wrapped up in his own head about why everyone kept trying to make him wear dresses he didn't even notice that this was the first time Dudley ever asked before he attempted to shove his head in the toilet. Reflecting on it later Harry realised in his own way Dudley would miss him but he is still a fat prick.

One day in July, Aunt Petunia took Dudley to London to buy his Smeltings uniform, leaving Harry at Mrs. Figg's. Vernon couldnt watch Harry as he had found out about all you can eat food challenge going on at a newly opened eatery. The poor bastards had no idea what they unleashed upon themselves. Mrs. Figg wasn't as bad as usual. She let Harry watch television and gave him a bit of chocolate cake. Only a small slice 'Harrietta' had to keep her figure. Mrs. Figg had faith this was her year.

That evening, Dudley paraded around the living room for the family in his brand-new uniform. Smeltings' boys wore maroon tailcoats, orange knickerbockers, and flat straw hats called boaters. Frankly he looked like a huge twat. They also carried knobbly sticks, you may have heard of the old adage 'beat them off with a stick'. Smeltings takes this in the literal sense but the 'them' refers to the teachers who regularly climb into the boys beds.

Just typical private school activity really.

As he looked at Dudley in his new knickerbockers, Uncle Vernon said gruffly that it was the fourth worst moment of his life. Aunt Petunia burst into tears and said she couldn't believe it was her Ickle Dudleykins, he looked so stupid. Harry didn't trust himself to speak. He thought two of his ribs might already have cracked from Dudley walloping him when he laughed the first time.

There was a horrible racket in the kitchen the next morning when Harry went in for breakfast. Entering the room his eyes immediately settled on his bony aunt hunched over a sewing machine and several empty wine bottles. It was 9.a.m. she was taking it easy today.

"What's this?" he asked Aunt Petunia. Her lips tightened as they always did if he dared to ask when she was half sober. "Your new school uniform," she said. Harry looked at the skirt again. "Oh," he said, "I didn't realise it had to be so short." "Don't be stupid," snapped Aunt Petunia. "If you got it flaunt it and your legs are dynamite. "

Harry seriously doubted this, but thought it best not to argue. He sat down at the table and tried not to think about how he was going to look on his first day at Stonewall High - fucking hot, you don't even know.

Dudley and Uncle Vernon came in, and got stuck in the door. After getting loose Uncle Vernon opened his newspaper as usual and Dudley banged his Smelting stick, which he carried everywhere, on the table. They heard the click of the mail slot and flop of letters on the doormat.

"Get the mail, Dudley," said Uncle Vernon from behind his paper. Vernon didn't want to go if it was dog shit again. You run over one guys kid and they can not let it go. "Make Harry get it. ","Get the mail, Harry. ","Make Dudley get it. ", "One of you just fucking go. "

Harry dodged the Smelting stick and empty wine bottle then went to get the mail. Three things lay on the doormat: a postcard from Uncle Vernon's sister Marge, who was vacationing on the Isle of Wight, a brown pile of dog mess, probably from number 7 today, and a letter for Harry.

Harry picked it up and stared at it, his heart pounding like his drunk aunt on the door when she loses her keys. No one, ever, in his whole life, had written to him. Who would? He had no friends, no other relatives - except his other aunt. Yet here it was, a letter, addressed so plainly there could be no mistake.

Sure 'Harrietta' got fan mail and phone calls. (he didn't care how drunk they were it is never appropriate to call to call a 10-year-old at 3a.m).

Mr. H. Potter

The Cupboard under the Stairs

4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the address written in emerald-green ink. There was no stamp, no postcode so Harry was correctly confused about why this was even delivered. One time he tried to send a letter to Santa and was told to fuck off by several of the staff. Sadly he didnt realise Royal Mail were jerks.

Turning the envelope over, his hand trembling, Harry saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter H.

"Hurry up, boy!" shouted Uncle Vernon from the kitchen. "What are you doing, checking for letter bombs?" He chuckled at his own joke, no one else did because they realised that it was a severely serious thing to receive a letter bomb and that considering the number of restaurants and people Vernon has pissed off it was a real possibility.

Harry went back to the kitchen, still staring at his letter. He handed Uncle Vernon the postcard, sat down, and slowly began to open the yellow envelope. Uncle Vernon farted, snorted in disgust, and flipped over the postcard. "Marge's ill," he informed Aunt Petunia. "Ate a tonne of whelks. She also needs money for bail". "Dad!" said Dudley suddenly. "Dad, Harry's got something!"

Harry was on the point of unfolding his letter, which was also written on the same heavy parchment as the envelope, when it was sharply jerked out of his hand by Uncle Vernon. "That's mine!" said Harry, trying to snatch it back. "You have no friends" sneered Uncle Vernon, shaking the letter open with one hand and glancing at it. His face contorted into a look of pained confusion and he mouthed the words 'what the fuck?'.

"Petunia" he grunted. Dudley tried to grab the letter to read it, but Uncle Vernon held it high out of his reach. Aunt Petunia took it curiously and read the first line. For a moment it looked as though she might faint. She clutched her throat and made a choking noise. "Vernon! Oh fucking hell Vernon!"

They stared at each other, seeming to have forgotten that Harry and Dudley were still in the room. Dudley wasn't used to being ignored. He gave his father a sharp tap on the crotch with his Smelting stick. "I want to read that letter," he said loudly. "I want to read it," said Harry furiously, "as it's mine." "Piss off, both of you," croaked Uncle Vernon, stuffing the letter back inside its envelope. Harry didn't move. "I WANT MY LETTER!" he shouted. "Let me see it!" demanded Dudley.

"OUT!" roared Uncle Vernon, and he took both Harry and Dudley by the scruffs of their necks and attempted to throw them into the hall. He didn't have the upper body strength to move them so he put his back out and collapsed. Petunia picked up the emergency ham and threw it into the hall Dudley speeding after it, she then grabbed Harry by the ear and threw him into the hall slamming the kitchen door behind them. Harry and Dudley promptly had a furious but silent fight over who would listen at the keyhole; Dudley won by way of a flying body slam from the sofa, so Harry, his glasses dangling from one ear and underwear pulled over his head, lay flat on his stomach to listen at the crack between door and floor.

"Vernon," Aunt Petunia was saying in a quivering voice, "look at the address, how could they possibly know where he sleeps? You don't think they're watching the house?". "Watching, spying, probably masturbating, might be following us," muttered Uncle Vernon wildly.

"But what should we do, Vernon? Should we write back? Tell them we don't want-"

Harry could see Uncle Vernon's shiny black shoes pacing up and down the kitchen.

"No," he said finally. "No, we'll ignore it. If they don't get an answer. Yes, that's best, we won't do anything". "But". "No Buts. Now where's that ham?"

That evening when he got back from work, Uncle Vernon did something he'd never done before; he visited Harry in his cupboard.

"Where's my letter?" said Harry, the moment Uncle Vernon had got stuck in the door. "Who's writing to me?". "No one. It was addressed to you by mistake," said Uncle Vernon shortly. "I have burned it. ". "It was not a mistake," said Harry angrily, "it had my cupboard on it. "

"SHUT UP!" yelled Uncle Vernon, and a couple of spiders fell from the ceiling. He screamed as they were fucking huge, Vernon realised he would have to stop buying Dudley tarantulas.

After having a few hard brandy's dragging Harry from the cupboard calling pest control and Jeff Daniels; Vernon sat Harry down in the living room.

"Er yes, Harry about that cupboard. You're really getting a bit big for it we think it might be nice if you moved into Dudley's second bedroom." "Why?" said Harry. "For fucks sake" snapped his uncle. "Stop questioning any nice things that happen. " "No Uncle Vernon I meant why now, why was I even under the cupboard?". Vernon stopped for a second "Wait you don't want to stay in there?" Harry shook his head. Rubbing his eyes Vernon answered "Look you wanted to sleep there when you were three and refused to leave when we tried to get you out. So we left you, we thought you had the autism and just couldn't deal with that shit". That was the same reason for the pageants. There was a tense silence and after a few minutes Harry left.

The Dursleys' house had four bedrooms: one for Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, one for visitors (usually Uncle Vernon's sister, Marge or Uncle Vernon himself when he pissed his wife off), one where Dudley slept, and one where Dudley kept all the toys and things that wouldn't fit into his first bedroom. It only took Harry one trip upstairs to move everything he owned from the cupboard to this room. He sat down on the bed and stared around him. Nearly everything in here was broken. The month-old video camera was lying on top of a small, working tank Dudley had once used to lay siege to next door and held an occupation for 2 days. In the corner was Dudley's first-ever television set, which he'd taken a giant bite out of, and because of the following law suit they got laughed out if court.

Harry sighed and stretched out on the bed. Yesterday he'd have given anything to be up here. Today he'd rather be back in his cupboard with that letter than up here without it.

Next morning at breakfast, everyone was rather quiet. Dudley was in shock. He'd screamed, whacked his father with his Smelting stick, been sick on purpose, kicked his mother, and thrown his tortoise through the greenhouse roof, and he still didn't have his room back. Harry was thinking about this time yesterday and bitterly wishing he'd opened the letter in the hall. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia kept looking at each other darkly.

The doorbell rang and everyone rushed to the front door each thinking it was the postal worker; it wasn't it was Dudleys tortoise looking severely pissed and out for revenge if the knife in its mouth was anything to go by.

When the mail eventually arrived, Uncle Vernon, seemingly trying to be nice to Harry, made Dudley go and get it. They heard him banging things with his Smelting stick and kicking things down the hall. Then he shouted, "There's another one! 'Mr. H. Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive '".

With a strangled cry, Uncle Vernon leapt from his seat and ran down the hall, Harry right behind him. Uncle Vernon had to tackle Dudley to the ground to get the letter from him, which was difficult by the fact that Harry had grabbed Uncle Vernon around the neck from behind. The pair being giant fat people meant the moment of collision they ended up bouncing like gumballs all over the halls eventually Vernon managed to wrestle the letter from Dudley when his tortoise, hellbent on revenge, bit into Dudleys leg.

"Go to your cupboard, I mean, your bedroom," he wheezed at Harry. "Dudley just fucking go. You too Mr. Turtle". But Mr. Turtles revenge was far from over.

Harry walked round and round his new room. Someone knew he had moved out of his cupboard and they seemed to know he hadn't received his first letter. Surely that meant they'd try again? And this time he'd make sure they didn't fail. He had a plan.

Harry didn't seem to have much in way of common sense which is probably why he gets approached in the street so often. If Harry had taken a second to think about it, the fact he is getting watched is a major cause for concern.

The repaired alarm clock rang at six o'clock the next morning. Harry turned it off quickly and dressed silently. He mustn't wake the Dursleys. He stole downstairs without turning on any of the lights.

He was going to wait for the postal worker on the corner of Privet Drive and get into an argument with the mail carrier, since he or she has a duty of care to deliver the letters not to some kid stood on the corner like a day time hooker. It was not his smartest idea but he is 10 years old.

His heart hammered as he crept across the dark hall toward the front door.

"OOOOINK"

Harry flew into the air as if hitting a trampoline; he'd trodden on something big and squashy on the doormat something alive!

Lights clicked on upstairs and to his horror Harry realized that the big, squashy something had been his uncle's gut. Uncle Vernon had lain at the foot of the front door in a sleeping bag. He shouted at Harry for about half an hour and then told him to go and make a bucket of bacon Harry shuffled miserably off into the kitchen and by the time he got back, the mail had arrived, right into Uncle Vernon's huge lap. Harry could see three letters addressed in green ink.

"I want" he began, but Uncle Vernon was tearing the letters into pieces before his eyes. Uncle Vernon didn't go to work that day. He stayed at home and nailed up the mail slot. "See," he explained to Aunt Petunia through a mouthful of chicken, "if they can't deliver them they'll just give up. " "Thats really stupid, Vernon. Remember when you did this before and the assholes from number 8 threw a brick through our window." Vernon frowned you run over one guys dog and they cant let it go.

"Oh, these people's minds work in strange ways, Petunia, they're not like you and me," said Uncle Vernon, trying to knock in a nail with the cake Aunt Petunia had just brought him. On Friday, no less than twelve letters arrived for Harry. As they couldn't go through the mail slot they had been pushed under the door, slotted through the sides, and a few even forced through the small window in the downstairs bathroom.

Uncle Vernon stayed at home again. After burning all the letters, he got out a hammer and nails and boarded up the cracks around the front and back doors so no one could go out. He hummed the McDonald's theme as he worked, and jumped at small noises.

On Saturday, things began to get out of hand. Twenty-four letters to Harry found their way into the house, rolled up and hidden inside the two dozen eggs that their very confused milkman had handed Aunt Petunia through the living room window. Why the milkman was giving them eggs we will never know. Usually he just throws them off their house.

While Uncle Vernon made furious telephone calls to the post office and the dairy trying to find someone to complain to, Aunt Petunia shredded the letters in her food processor. "Did we always have a food processor?" Dudley asked Harry in amazement.

On Sunday morning, Uncle Vernon sat down at the breakfast table looking tired and rather ill, but happy. surprisingly it wasnt because of the roast dinner he would be getting today.

"No post on Sundays," he reminded them cheerfully as he spread pâté on his moustashe, "no damn letters today" Something came whizzing down the kitchen chimney as he spoke and caught him sharply on the back of the head. Next moment, thirty or forty letters came pelting out of the fireplace like bullets. The Dursleys ducked in an attempted to avoid the shattering porcelin, mirrors and whatever else these letters hit. Harry leapt into the air trying to catch one.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?, GET OUT YOU STUPID IDIOT! FUCK WE'RE ALL DEAD"

Uncle Vernon seized Harry around the waist and threw him into the hall. When Aunt Petunia and Dudley had run out with their arms over their faces, Uncle Vernon slammed the door shut. They could hear the letters still streaming into the room, bouncing off the walls and floor and the pained oinks of Vernon.

"That does it," said Uncle Vernon, trying to speak calmly but pulling great tufts out of his mustache at the same time all the while bleeding from multiple papercuts. "I want you all back here in five minutes ready to leave. We're going away. Just pack some clothes. No arguments!"

Vernon looked so dangerous with half his mustache missing and blood streaming over his face that no one dared argue. Ten minutes later they had wrenched their way through the boarded-up doors and were in the car, speeding toward the highway. Dudley was sniffling in the back seat; his father had whomped him round the head for holding them up.

They drove. And they drove. Even Aunt Petunia didn't dare ask where they were going. Every now and then Uncle Vernon would take a sharp turn and drive in the opposite direction for a while, usually mounting the pavement and hitting pedestrians. "Shake 'em off. . . shake 'em off," he would mutter when he did this. It is unknown whether he thought that he was being followed or was a fan of Taylor Swift.

As a side note Vernon always did believe players were gonna play, play, play, and haters were gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate.

_**(Ed. Note. Do you feel good about that one? really?)**_

They didn't stop to eat or drink all day. By nightfall Dudley was howling. He'd never had such a bad day in his life. He was hungry, he'd missed that movie he'd wanted to see (Brokeback Mountain), and he'd never gone so long without taking a massive dump on his toilet. Without getting too crude it was safe to say Dudley was prairie dogging.

Uncle Vernon stopped at last outside a gloomy-looking hotel on the outskirts of a big city. Dudley and Harry shared a room with twin beds and damp, musty sheets. Dudley snored but Harry stayed awake, sitting on the windowsill, staring down at the lights of passing cars and wondered if they wanted the letter delivered so badly why didn't they just put it in Harry's room directly?

They ate stale cornflakes and cold tinned tomatoes on toast for breakfast the next day because apparently this hotel was shit. They had just finished when the owner of the hotel came over to their table.

"Scuse me, but is one of you Mr. H. Potter? Only I got about a hundred of these at the front desk. Its bloody weird." he held up a letter so they could read the green ink address:

Mr. H. Potter

Room 17

Railview Hotel

Cokeworth

WE WILL GET YOU!

YOU CANNOT HIDE!

Harry made a grab for the letter but Uncle Vernon knocked his hand out-of-the-way. The man stared it was the fattest hand he had ever seen. "I'll take them," said Uncle Vernon, standing up quickly and following from the dining room.

"Wouldn't it be better just to call the police, dear?" Aunt Petunia suggested timidly, hours later, but Uncle Vernon didn't seem to hear her. Exactly what he was looking for, none of them knew. He drove them into the middle of a forest, got out, looked around, shook his head, got back in the car, and off they went again. The same thing happened in the middle of a plowed field, halfway across a suspension bridge, and at the top of a multilevel parking garage.

"Dad's gone mad, hasn't he?" Dudley asked Aunt Petunia dully late that afternoon. Petunia had only ever seen him like this once before and that was when they stopped selling the McRib sandwich and he trekked the country to find it.

He never did.

Uncle Vernon had parked at the coast, locked them all inside the car, and disappeared. It started to rain. Great drops beat on the roof of the car. The small calendar showing monday caught Harry's eye. This reminded Harry of something. If it was Monday then tomorrow, Tuesday, was Harry's eleventh birthday. Of course, his birthdays were never exactly fun - last year, the Dursleys had given him a coat hanger and some rose blush. Still, you weren't eleven every day. Technically you were eleven every day for around 365 days then you were 12.

Uncle Vernon was back and he was smiling, despite having a harpoon impaled into his thigh. He was also carrying a long, thin package and didn't answer Aunt Petunia when she asked what he'd bought. "Found the perfect place!" he said. "Come on! Everyone out!".It was very cold outside the car. Uncle Vernon was pointing at what looked like a large rock way out at sea. Perched on top of the rock was the most shitty little shack you could imagine. Only way it could be worse is if it was on fire. One thing was certain, Vernon has went completely crazy.

"Storm forecast for tonight!" said Uncle Vernon gleefully, clapping his hands together. "And this gentleman's kindly agreed to lend us his boat!". A toothless old man came ambling up to them, pointing, with a rather wicked grin, at an old rowboat bobbing in the iron-gray water below them.

"I've already got us some rations," said Uncle Vernon, "so all aboard!". As they all clambered in the boat the old dirty fisherman took Vernon aside and once again apologised for mistaking him for a whale and impaling him with a harpoon.

Vernon shrugged it off it was far from the first time this has happened.

It was freezing in the boat. Icy sea spray and rain crept down their necks and a chilly wind whipped their faces. After what seemed like hours they reached the rock, where Uncle Vernon, slipping and sliding, led the way to the broken-down house. The inside was horrible; it smelled strongly of seaweed, the wind whistled through the gaps in the wooden walls, and the fireplace was damp and empty. There were only two rooms and a questionable toilet.

Uncle Vernon's rations turned out to be a bag of crisps each and four bananas. He tried to start a fire but the empty crisp bags just smoked and shriveled up. "Could do with some of those letters now, eh?" he said cheerfully despite the round of glares levelled at him.

He was in a very good mood. Obviously he thought nobody stood any chance of reaching them here in a storm to deliver mail. Harry privately agreed, though the thought didn't cheer him up at all.

As night fell, the promised storm blew up around them. Spray from the high waves splattered the walls of the hut and a fierce wind rattled the filthy windows. Aunt Petunia found a few moldy blankets in the second room and made up a bed for Dudley on the broken down sofa. She and Uncle Vernon went off to the lumpy bed next door, and Harry was left to find the softest bit of floor he could and to curl up under the thinnest, most ragged blanket.

The storm raged more and more ferociously as the night went on. Harry couldn't sleep. He shivered and turned over, trying to get comfortable, his stomach rumbling with hunger. Dudley's snores and farts were drowned by the low rolls of thunder that started near midnight. The lighted dial of Dudley's watch, which was dangling over the edge of the sofa on his fat wrist, told Harry he'd be eleven in ten minutes' time. He lay and watched his birthday tick nearer, wondering if the Dursleys would remember at all, wondering where the letter writer was now.

Five minutes to go. Harry heard something creak outside. He hoped the roof wasn't going to fall in, although he might be warmer if it did. Four minutes to go. Maybe the house in Privet Drive would be so full of letters when they got back that he'd be able to steal one somehow. He knew the house would be vandalised everybody hates the Dursleys.

Three minutes to go. Was that the sea, slapping hard on the rock like that? And (two minutes to go) what was that funny crunching noise? Was the rock crumbling into the sea? Do rocks yell 'fuck its cold'? One minute to go and he'd be eleven. Thirty seconds. . . twenty. . . ten. . . nine - maybe he'd wake Dudley up, just to annoy him three, two, one. BOOM. The whole shack shook and Harry sat bolt upright, staring at the door. Someone was outside, knocking to come in.

_**A.N. Thats your lot for now. Next time Hagrid fumbles his way into the brawl. so if you liked add a comment etc also I dont know why I still let Ed read these before posting. Ed is a dick.**_


	4. Enter Hagrid

_**A.N. So I have decided that fridays will be the update days and hopefully you read enjoy etc etc etc lets do this.**_

Chapter 4

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. They knocked again, repeatedly in more and more frantic raps. Dudley beef jerkied awake. "Why can't I quit you Piers?" he said stupidly. There was a crash behind them and Uncle Vernon came skidding into the room. He was holding a rifle in his hands, now they knew what had been in the long, thin package he had brought with them. They assumed it was a salami. They weren't wrong per say he had it in there with the rifle.

"Who's there?" he shouted. "I warn you, I'm packing heat!" There was a pause. SMASH! The door was hit with such force that it swung clean off its hinges and with a deafening crash landed across the room into a drowsy Dudley.

An absolute giant of a man was standing in the doorway. His face was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, but you could make out his eyes, glinting like black beetles under all the hair.

The giant squeezed his way into the hut, stooping so that his head just brushed the ceiling. He immediately moved forward past the group and into the toilet. There was a rustling and a loud groan of relief accompanied by farting. Staring Harry heard something he wished he hadn't and hadn't' heard something he wished he had. "Ah there's no toilet paper ah well" then he exited without washing his hands or flushing.

Stepping out and facing the shocked and injured Dursleys the giant smiled "Sorry about that had a turtle head sticking out since about two hours ago" He chuckled and took a glance at the toilet "I'd give that about 5 minutes if I were you". It was a bold lie he knew it would have taken a lot longer for the smell to leave. "Couldn't make us a cup of tea, could you? It's not been an easy journey" He strode over to the remains of the sofa where Dudley removed himself from the broken door. "An there's Harry " said the stranger jovially. "I'm not Harry you giant ass" Dudley oinked in response.

The giant kicked the sofa in rage sending it spinning across the shanty "Ah fuck I'm at the wrong place again. Fourth time tonight". The giant had not been exaggerating he stopped learning to read after the letter 's' so he has been all over the globe trying to deliver this letter including joining a japanese family for lunch. It took him several hours to realise that 'Haruhi Potteru' was the wrong kid.

Hogwarts would be sending a lot of correction letters that year.

Dudley oinked and ran to hide behind his mother, who was crouching, terrified, behind Uncle Vernon. "Excuse me giant hairy stranger but my name is Harry". Harry looked up into the fierce, wild, shadowy face and saw that the beetle eyes were now crinkled in a smile.

"Last' time I saw you, you was only a baby," said the giant. "Yeh look a lot like yer dad, but you've got yer mom's eyes. " Uncle Vernon made a funny rasping noise.

"I demand that you leave at once, asshole!" he said. "Ah, shut up, Dursley" said the giant; he reached over and jerked the gun out of Uncle Vernon's hands. He then slipped the gun into his shirt. Never know when you might need a gun and people owed him money.

Uncle Vernon seemed to make another funny noise, this time though it was the was the sound of air escaping his fat folds.

"Anyway Harry," said the giant, turning his back on the Dursleys, "a very happy birthday to you. Got summat fer yeh here I mighta sat on it at some point, but it'll taste all right. "

From an inside pocket of his black overcoat he pulled a slightly squashed box. Harry opened it with trembling fingers. Inside was a large, sticky chocolate cake with Happy Birthday Harry written on it in green icing. True to the man's word he had sat on it as half of the cake had an indentation of his mammoth ass.

Harry looked up at the giant. He meant to say thank you, but the words got lost on the way to his mouth, and what he said instead was, "Who are you?" The giant chuckled. "True, I haven't introduced myself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. " He held out an enormous hand and attempted to shake Harry's whole arm. Harry didn't want to as he was aware that the man hasn't washed his hands after unloading his bowels.

"What about that tea then, eh?" he said, rubbing his hands together. "I'd not say no ter summat stronger if you've got it, mind." His eyes fell on the empty grate with the shriveled chip bags in it and he snorted. He bent down over the fireplace; they couldn't see what he was doing but when he drew back a second later, there was a roaring fire there. It filled the damp hut with flickering light and Harry felt the warmth wash over him as though he'd stepped into a roaring inferno. Hagrid added far too much lighter fluid

The giant sat back down on what was left of the sofa, and began taking all sorts of things out of the pockets of his coat: a copper kettle, a squashy package of sausages, a poker, a teapot, several chipped mugs, a copy of 'wicked witches' magazine and a bottle of some amber liquid that he took a swig from before starting to make tea. Soon the hut was full of the sound and smell of sizzling sausage. Nobody said a thing while the giant was working, but as he slid the first six fat, juicy, slightly burnt sausages from the poker, Dudley fidgeted a little. Uncle Vernon said sharply, "Don't touch anything he gives you, Dudley. " Vernon wanted it all for himself it didn't matter that Hagrid had not actually washed his hands yet.

The giant chuckled darkly. "I didn't offer did I ya daft bastard, sheesh talk about rude". This was from the man who kicked the door down and didn't flush after using the toilet.

He passed the sausages to Harry, who was so hungry yet he had never tasted anything so awful, but he still couldn't take his eyes off the giant. Finally, as nobody seemed about to explain anything, he said, "I'm sorry, but I still don't really know who you are." The giant took a gulp of tea and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Call me Hagrid," he said, "everyone does. An' like I told yeh, I'm Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts, not the keyblades mind whole different department. You'll know all about Hogwarts, o' course. " Hogwhat?" said Harry. Hagrid looked shocked. "Sorry, I still have no idea why you are here" Harry said quickly.

"Sorry ?" barked Hagrid, turning to stare at the Dursleys, who shrank back into the shadows. "It's them who are gonna be sorry! I knew yeh weren't getting' yer letters but I never thought yeh wouldn't even know about' Hogwarts, fer crying' out loud! Did yeh never wonder where yer parents learned it all?". "All what?" asked Harry, Dudley and Vernon. "ALL WHAT?" Hagrid thundered. "Now wait just' one second!" He had leapt to his feet head smashing against the roof. In his anger he seemed to fill the hut. The Dursleys were cowering against the wall.

"Do you mean ter tell me," he growled at the Dursleys, "that this boy knows nothing' about ANYTHING?" Harry thought this was going a bit far. He had been to school, after all, and his marks weren't bad. They weren't good either mind.

"I know some things," he said. "I can, you know, do math and stuff you prick " But Hagrid simply waved his hand and said, "About our world, I mean. Your world. My world. Yer parents' world. " "What world?" Hagrid looked as if he was about to explode. "DURSLEY!" he boomed.

Uncle Vernon, who had gone very pale, whispered something that sounded like "This stalker is going to kill us, what is he even talking about" Hagrid stared wildly at Harry. "But yeh must know about yer mom and dad," he said. "I mean, they're famous. You're famous." "What? My parents weren't famous, were they?".

"Yeh don' know, ah balls " Hagrid ran his fingers through his hair, fixing Harry with a bewildered stare. "Yeh don' know what you are ?" he said finally.

Uncle Vernon suddenly found his voice. "Stop!" he commanded. "Stop I demand that you leave me and my family alone!" A braver man than Vernon Dursley would have quailed under the furious look Hagrid now gave him; when Hagrid spoke, his every syllable trembled with rage. "You never told him? Never told him what was in the letter Dumbledore left fer him? I was there! I saw Dumbledore leave it after I wrecked your car Dursley! An' you've kept it from him all these years?"

"Kept what from me?" said Harry eagerly. "WHAT ARE YOU EVEN TALKING ABOUT? TOLD HIM WHAT? AND WHAT LETTER? IT WAS A SHOPPING LIST!" yelled Uncle Vernon in panic. He was not wrong Dumbledore got mixed up with the letters and forgot to go back. Aunt Petunia gave a gasp of horror. "Fuck it" said Hagrid. "Harry yer a wizard. "

There was silence inside the hut. Only the sea, the whistling wind and panic farts could be heard. "I'm a what ?" gasped Harry. "He's a what?" added in Vernon and Dudley. "wait. YOU WERE THE ONE WHO FUCKED UP MY CAR?"

"A wizard, o' course," said Hagrid, sitting back down on the sofa, which broke again causing Hagrid to land on his ass, "an' a thumpin' good 'un, I'd say, once you've been trained up a bit. A Grand Wizard even. With a mum and' dad like yours, what else would yeh be? An' I reckon it's about' time yeh read yer letter. "

Harry stretched out his hand at last to take the yellowish envelope, ignoring the grand wizard bit, addressed in emerald-green to Mr. H. Potter, The Floor, Hut-on-the-Rock, The Sea. He pulled out the letter and read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc. , Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards & all round nice guy)

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress

Questions exploded inside Harry's head like fireworks and he couldn't decide which to ask first. After a few minutes he stammered, "What does it mean, they await my owl?"

"Balrogs Balls, that reminds me," said Hagrid, clapping a hand to his forehead with enough force to knock over a cart horse, and from yet another pocket inside his overcoat he pulled an owl, a rather ruffled-looking owl, a long quill, and a roll of parchment. With his tongue between his teeth he scribbled a note that Harry could read upside down all the while Uncle Vernon repeatedly punched Hagrid in the head:

Dear Professor Dombledore,

Harri has his fing.

Goin 2 grab his goods 2morrah.

Fooking cold. Hope being ok.

Hagrid

Hagrid rolled up the note, gave it to the owl, which clamped it in its beak, after pushing Vernon over he went to the door, and threw the owl out into the storm where it was promptly struck by lightning. After convincing the second owl to go telling it lightning doesn't strike twice he came back and sat down as though this was as normal as talking on the telephone. Harry realized his mouth was open and closed it quickly.

"Where was I?" said Hagrid, but at that moment, Uncle Vernon, still ashen-faced but looking very angry, moved into the firelight. "He's not going," he said. Hagrid grunted. "I'd like to see a great Muggle like you stop him," he said. "A what?" said Harry, interested. "A Muggle," said Hagrid, "it's what we call non magic folk like them. An' it's your bad luck you grew up in a family o' the biggest Muggles I ever laid eyes on."

"That sounds racist Mr Hagrid" Harry added before something clicked. "Did you know?" said Harry. "Did you know I'm a wizard?" "Know!" shrieked Aunt Petunia suddenly. "Know! Of course I knew! How could you not be, my bitch sister being what she was? Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that school and came home every vacation with her pockets full of frog spawn then putting it in my breakfast, turning my tampons into rats for me to find later. I was not the only one who saw her for what she was a freak! For my mother and father, oh ho, it was Lily don't do this and Lily please stop that, they were scared of having a witch in the family!"

She stopped to draw a deep breath It seemed she had wanted to say all this for years. "Petunia dear what the fuck?" Vernon said confused as all hell "Are you saying that this is all true?".

Harry thought for a second "wait why is my mom a witch if I'm a wizard?"

Ignoring her tub of lard husband and her nephews question (which she asked herself all those years ago) she continued. "Then she met that Potter at school and they left and got married and had you, and of course I knew you'd be just the same, just as strange, just as abnormal then she disappears and we got landed with you!"

Harry had gone very white. As soon as he found his voice he said, "Disappeared? You told me they died in a car crash!"

"No I said people died because of her car crash I still have no idea how she still got her licence".

The answer is she got it the same way Ron did in canon via morally dubious means. You may ask yourself who is worse for doing so. The answer is always Ron. I haven't checked the books lately but I think Ron gets a +7 awfulness modifier to all his rolls. Anyways back to the drama there will be plenty of Ron bashing once he elbows his way into the story.

"What happened then?" Harry asked urgently. Everyone in the room suddenly turned towards Hagrid who looked suddenly anxious.

"I never expected this," he said, in a low, worried voice. "I had no idea, when Dumbledore told me there might be trouble getting' hold of yeh, how much yeh didn't know. Ah, Harry, I don't' know if I'm the right person ter tell yeh, but someone's gotta".

He stared into the fire for a few seconds, and then said, "It begins, I suppose, with a person called, but it's incredible yeh don't know his name, everyone in our world knows" "Who?"

"Well I don't' like saying' the name if I can help it. No one does. "

"Why not?"

"Harry, people are still scared, this is difficult. See, there was this wizard who went bad. As bad as you could go. Worse. Worse than worse. His name was" Hagrid gulped, but no words came out.

"Could you write it down?" Harry suggested.

"Nah can't spell it. All right Voldemort. " Hagrid shuddered. Hagrid couldn't spell a lot of things "Don't make me say it again. Anyway, this wizard, about twenty years ago now, started looking for followers. Got 'em, too some were afraid, some just wanted a bit of his power, most were just assholes. Dark days, Harry. Didn't know who ter trust, didn't dare get friendly with strange wizards or witches terrible things happened. Though come tha tink of it that happened anyways."

Hagrid shrugged then continued "He was taking over, some stood up to him an' he killed 'em. Horribly. One guy challenged him to a ladder match boy did he get wrecked. One of the only safe places left was Hogwarts. Reckon Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was afraid of. Didn't dare try taking the school, not just then, anyway.

"Now, your mum and dad were as good a witch and wizard as I ever knew. Head boy and girl at Hogwarts in their day! Suppose the mystery is why You-Know-Who never tried to get 'em on his side before probably knew they were too close to Dumbledore to want anything to do with the Dark Side.

"Maybe he thought he could persuade 'em maybe he just wanted 'em outta the way. All anyone knows is, he turned up in the village where you was all living, on Halloween ten years ago. It was one of his more common tactics no one expects to ever be killed by trick or treaters You was just a year old. He came ter yer house an"

Hagrid suddenly pulled out a very dirty, spotted handkerchief and blew his nose with a sound like a foghorn.

"Sorry," he said. "But it's that sad knew yer mum and' dad, an' nicer people yeh couldn't find anyway You-Know-Who killed 'em. And' then, and' this is the real mystery of the thing he tried to kill you, too. Wanted to make a clean job of it, I suppose, or maybe he just liked killin' by then. But he couldn't do it. Never wondered how you got that mark on yer forehead? That was no ordinary cut. That's what ya get when a powerful, evil curse touches yeh took care of yer mum an' dad an' yer house, even but it didn't work on you, and' that's why you're famous, Harry. No one ever lived after he decided ter kill 'em, no one except you, an' he'd killed some of' the best witches an' wizards of the age the McKinnons, the Bones, the Prewetts, Macho Man Randy Savage an' you was only a baby, an' you lived. "

Something very painful was going on in Harry's mind. As Hagrid's story came to a close, he saw again the giant blueberry, more clearly than he had ever remembered it before and he remembered something else, for the first time in his life: a yell of KAPLAH and then HOLY SHIT. Hagrid was watching him sadly.

"Took yeh from the ruined house myself, on Dumbledore's orders. Got ya a tattoo and brought yeh ter this lot "

"My sister is dead? Lily was murdered" Petunia whispered quietly before slumping to the floor in shock. Harry, meanwhile, still had questions to ask, hundreds of them.

"But what happened to Voldemort?" Harry whats going to call him you know who. Why the fuck would he?

"Good question, Harry. Disappeared. Vanished. Same night he tried to kill you. Makes yeh even more famous. That's the biggest mystery, he was getting' more an' more powerful, why'd he go?

"Some say he died. Bullshit, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die. Some say he's still out there, biding' his time, like, but I don't' believe it. People who was on his side came back to ours. Some of 'em came outta kinda trances. Don' reckon they would've done if he was coming' back. Though they were prolly lying."

"Most of us reckon he's still out there somewhere but lost his powers. Too weak to carry on. 'Cause something' about you finished him, Harry. There was something' goin' on that night he hadn't counted on, something stumped him, all right. "

Hagrid looked at Harry with warmth and respect blazing in his eyes, but Harry, instead of feeling pleased and proud, felt quite sure there had been a horrible mistake. A wizard? Him? How could he possibly be? He'd spent his life being body slammed by Dudley, put in a dress by Aunt Petunia and farted on by Uncle Vernon; if he was really a wizard, why hadn't they been turned into balls of flames every time they'd tried to put him in a dress? If he'd once defeated the greatest sorcerer in the world, how come Dudley had always been able to pin him to a 3 count?

"Hagrid," he said quietly, "I think you must have made a mistake. I don't think I can be a wizard "

To his surprise, Hagrid chuckled. "Not a wizard, eh? Never made things happen when you was scared or angry?" Harry looked into the fire. Now he came to think about it every odd thing that had ever made his aunt furious with him had happened when he, Harry, had been upset or angry. Harry looked back at Hagrid, smiling, and saw that Hagrid was positively beaming at him.

"See?" said Hagrid. "Harry Potter, not a wizard you wait, you'll fit right in at Hogwarts. They love people who hurt others when they are sad or angry."

While this was going on Hagrid was pointedly ignoring Petunia asking if there was a funeral or a gravesite where she could visit her dead sister. She would have to call her other sister too.

But Uncle Vernon wasn't going to give in without a fight. "Haven't I told you he's not going?" he hissed ignoring his weeping wife. "He's going to Stonewall High and he'll be grateful for it. I've read those letters and he needs all sorts of rubbish spell books and wands and"

"If he wants ter go, a great Muggle like you won't stop him," growled Hagrid. "Stop Lily and' James Potter's son going' ter Hogwarts! Yer mad. His name's been down ever since he was born. He's off ter the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world. Seven years there and he won't know himself. He'll be with youngsters of his own sort, fer a change, an' he'll be under the greatest headmaster Hogwarts ever had Albus Dumbled-"

"I AM NOT LETTING HIM GO TO SOME CULT TRAINING GROUND RUN BY SOME OLD CONMAN" yelled Uncle Vernon. But he had finally gone too far. Hagrid seized his umbrella and whirled it over his head, "NEVER" he thundered, "INSULT ALBUS DUMBLEDORE IN FRONT OF ME!"

He brought the umbrella swishing down through the air to point at Dudley there was a flash of violet light, a sound like a firecracker, a sharp squeal, and the next second, Dudley was dancing on the spot with his hands clasped over his fat ass, howling in pain. Dudley didn't realise it then but he would be experiencing similar pain when he started at private school. When he turned his back on them, Harry saw a curly pig's tail poking through a hole in his trousers.

Uncle Vernon screamed in disbelief "HOLY SHIT MAGIC IS REAL, RUN DUDLEY". Pushing his still crying wife out-of-the-way he barreled into the other room closely followed by his fat son slamming the door behind them. Noises could be heard like two fat people barricading the door.

Hagrid looked down at his umbrella and stroked his beard.

"Shouldn'ta lost me temper," he said ruefully, "but it didn't work anyway. Meant ter turn him into a pig, but I suppose he was so much like a pig anyway there wasn't much left ter do. "

He cast a sideways look at Harry under his bushy eyebrows.

"Be grateful if yeh didn't mention that ter anyone especially the auror force" he said. "I'm not supposed to do magic, strictly speaking'. I was allowed to do a bit to follow yeh and' get yer letters to yeh and' stuff one o' the reasons I was so keen to take on the job. "

"Why aren't you supposed to do magic? Also if you weren't supposed to do magic who in authority gave you permission to deliver a letter?" asked Harry.

"Oh, well I was at Hogwarts myself but I got expelled, ter tell yeh the truth. In me third year. They snapped me wand in half an' everything. But Dumbledore let me stay on as gamekeeper. Great man, Dumbledore."

"Why were you expelled? And I reiterate my last question especially now as since you haven't finished magical education "

"It was this whole thing that got outta hand WHELP It's getting' late and we've got lots ter do tomorrow," said Hagrid loudly. "Gotta get up ter town, get all your books and' that. "

He took off his thick black coat and threw it to Harry.

"You can kip under that," he said. "Don't mind if it wriggles a bit, I think I still got a couple of dormice in one of the pockets. " Harry was reluctant to sleep under something with wild animals in it but it was a long night and he was extremely tired.

Just like I am.

_**A.N. So there you have it hope you enjoyed it. If you did leave a comment let me know and Ill send you a pizza roll.**_

**Disclaimer - You will NOT actually get a pizza roll.**


	5. Ready yourself for unadulterated whimsey

_**A.N. Here it is chapter 5 got that time of week already you know what do to go on. I said go on jeez its right there come read me I'm right here!.**_

Chapter 5

Harry woke early the next morning. Although he could tell it was daylight, he kept his eyes shut tight. He did not want to see where that smell was coming from."It was a dream," he told himself firmly. "I dreamed a giant called Hagrid gave me a weird letter and then yelled at my grieving aunt because he was trying to sleep. When I open my eyes I'll be at home in bed." There was suddenly a loud tapping noise.

And there's Aunt Petunia trying to get through the door and put makeup on me, Harry thought, his heart sinking. But he still didn't open his eyes. It had been such a stupid dream. Tap. Tap. Tap. "All right," Harry mumbled, "I'm getting up." He sat up and Hagrid's heavy coat fell off him. The hut was full of sunlight, the storm was over, Hagrid himself was seemingly asleep scratching up a storm due to his itchy butt crack on the collapsed sofa, and there was an owl rapping its claw on the window, a newspaper held in its beak.

Harry scrambled to his feet, so happy he felt as though a large balloon was swelling inside him despite finding out his parents were dead due to murder. He went straight to the window and jerked it open. The owl swooped in and dropped the newspaper on top of Hagrid, who didn't wake up. The owl then fluttered to the floor and began to attack Hagrid's coat.

"Hagrid!" said Harry loudly. "There's an owl"

"What?" Hagrid grunted into the sofa. "I think he wants to get paid, or hes after the mice" Harry added loudly.

"He wants paying for delivering the paper. Does he?" Hagrid grumbled rolling over. "OI!" Hagrid yelled getting the birds attention.

"Hoot?" Said the owl, for it is an owl, turning its head up in a questioning gesture.

BOOM. Feathers and bits of owl fell around the shack while Harry sat wide-eyed trying to process the fact the strange hairy giant used a rifle to avoid paying for the paper. "Fucking owls." Hagrid cursed sitting up and stretching.

"Best be off, Harry, lots ter do today, gotta get up ter London an' buy all your stuff for school. "

Harry, after regaining his senses and deciding not to question thentrigger happy giant, thought of something that made him feel like shit. "Um Hagrid?"

"Mm?" said Hagrid, who had returned to itching his crack. "I haven't got any money and you heard Uncle Vernon last night, he won't pay for me to go and learn magic. " "Don't worry about that," said Hagrid, standing up and scratching his head. "D'yeh think yer parents didn't leave yeh anything?" "Only for the past 10 years"

"They didn't' keep their gold in the house! Nah, first stop for us is Gringotts. Wizarding' bank. Have a sausage, they're not bad cold and we could prolly cook up that owl."

"Wizards have banks ?" "Just the one. Gringotts. Run by goblins." Harry dropped the bit of sausage he was holding. "Just one that seems really stupid" "You would think but you'd be mad ter try an' rob it, I'll tell yeh that. Never mess with goblins, Harry, they always go right for the balls. Gringotts is the safest place in the world fer anything yeh want ter keep safe except maybe Hogwarts. As a matter of fact, I gotta visit Gringotts anyway. For Dumbledore. Hogwarts business. " Hagrid drew himself up proudly. "He usually gets me to do important stuff for him. Fetchin' you, getting' things from Gringotts, disposing of evidence, knows he can trust me, see. "

"Wait disposing of evidence?"

"Got everything'? Come on, then." Harry followed Hagrid out to the rock. The sky was quite clear now and the sea gleamed in the sunlight. The boat Uncle Vernon had hired was still there, with a lot of water in the bottom after the storm.

"How did you get here?" Harry asked, looking around for another boat.

"Flew," said Hagrid. "Flew?"

"Yeah, but we'll go back in this. Not supposed to use magic now I've got yeh." He wasn't supposed to use magic at all.

They settled down in the boat, Harry still staring at Hagrid, trying to imagine him flying. He kept seeing him fly backwards.

"Seems a shame ter row, though," said Hagrid, giving Harry another of his sideways looks. "If I was to speed things up a bit, would yeh mind not mentioning it at Hogwarts?"

"Of course not, I'm probably going to mention it to the police. By the way if we are taking the boat how will the others get back?" said Harry. Hagrid pulled out the pink umbrella again, tapped it twice on the side of the boat, and they sped off toward land.

"Why would you be mad to try to rob Gringotts?" Harry asked.

"Spells, enchantments, that one security guard who has a pipe" said Hagrid, unfolding his newspaper as he spoke. "They say there are dragons guarding the high security vaults. And then yeh gotta find yer way, Gringotts is hundreds of miles under London, see. Deep under the Underground. You'd die of hunger trying' to get out, even if ya did manage to get yer hands on summat. "

Harry sat and thought about this while Hagrid read his newspaper, the Daily Prophet. Harry had learned from Uncle Vernon that people liked to be left alone while they did this, but it was very difficult, he'd never had so many questions in his life. Mostly why did he shoot that owl.

"Ministry of Magic messing things up as usual," Hagrid muttered, turning the page. "There's a Ministry of Magic?" Harry asked, before he could stop himself.

"'Course," said Hagrid. "They wanted Dumbledore fer Minister, but he'd never leave Hogwarts, so old Cornelius Fudge got the job. Packer if ever there was one. So he pelts Dumbledore with owls every morning, asking for advice." "But what does a Ministry of Magic do?"

"Well, their main job is to keep it from the Muggles that there's still witches and wizards up and down the country."

"Why?"

Hagrid shrugged "Ah dunno was told it was so muggles wouldn't ask for shit. Wizards are lazy Harry."

At this moment the boat mounted the harbor wall. Hagrid folded up his newspaper, and they shared a look of worry as the boat sped up the stairs to the street.

Passersby stared a lot at them as they blazed through the little town to the station. Harry couldn't blame them. It's not everyday you see a row-boat going 40 miles per hour down the street driven by a giant.

People stared more than ever on the train. Hagrid had to get out the oars to keep ahead of the train that would have smashed them to oblivion.

"I hope you still got yer letter, Harry" he huffed out of breath, rowing as quickly as possible while the train driver tried to wave them off the track.

Harry took the parchment envelope out of his pocket. "Good," said Hagrid. "There's a list there of everything yeh need." Harry unfolded a second piece of paper he hadn't noticed the night before, and read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

UNIFORM

First-year students will require:

1\. Three sets of plain work robes (black)

2\. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

3\. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

4\. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

Optional: Another three sets of plain work robes (black) if you don't want to stink

Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs, Fungi and Which Get You High by Phyllida Spore

Magical Drafts, Brews and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

Muggle Baker almost get Raped by Lava Rhino Book 1: Johnny Depp pretends to be Colin Farrell for some reason by Newt Scamander

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set of glass or crystal phials

1 telescope set

1 brass scales

5 first aid kits

1 will writing set

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS. SERIOUSLY WE CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH.

"Can we buy all this in London?" Harry wondered aloud.

"If ye know where to go," said Hagrid.

Harry had never been to London before. Although Hagrid seemed to know where he was going, he was obviously not used to getting there this particular way. The boat got stuck in the ticket barrier on the Underground, and launched the pair into the street.

As a side note the rail system gave the first real disruption notice they have given in years, rather than make some bullshit up. Points failure my ass.

Hagrid was so huge that he plowed through the crowd easily; all Harry had to do was hope he survived the crash. They passed one bookshop and multiple closed music stores, a questionable hamburger restaurant and several overpriced cinemas. This was just an ordinary street full of ordinary people. After Hagrid hit a bus and Harry hit Hagrid, the pair took 15 minutes to rest and get back up and head on towards their original goal.

"This is it," said Hagrid, coming to a halt, "the Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place. David Bowie once got terrible diarrhea here."

It was a tiny, rough-looking pub if the two shaven headed gentlemen knocking each others teeth out was any indication. If Hagrid hadn't pointed it out, Harry wouldn't have noticed it was there. The people hurrying by didn't glance at it though they were avoiding eye contact with the other people hanging outside smoking. Their eyes slid from the off licence on one side to the gambling shop on the other pretending as if they couldn't see the Leaky Cauldron at all. In fact, Harry had the most peculiar feeling that only he and Hagrid would see it and not get stabbed. Before he could mention this, Hagrid had steered him inside.

For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking large glasses of gin, because not even the wizarding world can get away from this fucking fad. A little man in a top hat was talking to the bartender, who looked like Ted Danson. The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in. Everyone seemed to know his name and were always glad he came; "HAGRID!" they waved and smiled at him, and the bartender reached for a bucket, saying, "The usual, Hagrid?" "What's your usual Hagrid" Harry asked wondering if booze would even make it past his mighty liver. It was Sam who answered "Whiskey. By the quart".

"Can't have more than one, Sam, I'm on Hogwarts business," said Hagrid, clapping his great hand on Harry's shoulder and making Harry sink a foot into the ground. "Hagrid," said the bartender, peering at Harry, "was announcing that such a good idea?"

The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent. "Well shit" whispered the bartender, "Harry Potter, hope you know how to escape a crazy mob"

Harry didn't know what to say. Everyone was looking at him. There sat an old woman with a pipe who puffed on it without realizing it had gone out, but then again she looked super stoned. Hagrid was beaming, but that could have been the whiskey.

Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Harry found himself shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron. "Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter, can't believe I'm meeting you at last."

"Always wanted to shake your hand - I'm all damp now."

"Delighted, Mr. Potter, can I have some of your money?"

"I've seen you before!" said Harry, as the mans top hat fell off in his excitement. "You told me you had candy in the back of your van." he didn't have candy.

They never have candy.

"He remembers! Did you hear that? The offer still stands by the way" he added with a wink right as Hagrid's giant meaty fist knocked him through the wall hopefully ending the menace known as Mr Feely. Harry shook hands again and again, Doris Crockford kept pinching his ass.

A pale young man made his way forward, very nervously. One of his eyes was twitching.

"Professor Quirrell!" said Hagrid. "Harry, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."

"Potter," stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Harry's hand, "can't tell you how pleased I am to meet you."

"What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?" Harry asked ignoring the fact Professor Quirells hand seemed to sizzle and smoke as they shook.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts," muttered Professor Quirrell, as though he'd rather not think about it. Though that could have been the 3rd degree burns he was getting from this handshake.

"Not that you need it, eh, Potter?" He laughed nervously.

Harry stared at the professor who had just made an inappropriate comment about his parents murder. He was shortly brought from his thoughts when Quirrell's turban sneezed loudly.

"Did your turban just sneeze?" Harry asked staring at the man. "No" Quirrell and his turban snapped while his eyes nervously darted around "I'm sure it did" Harry said pushing.

"Tell this kid to just be cool and drop it ACHOO jeez you need to wash this thing" came a raspy voice from the turban. Hagrid then shoved Harry "You heard the man be cool Harry".

It took almost ten minutes to get Harry to drop it and be cool. At last, Hagrid managed to make himself heard over the rabble. "Must get on lots ter buy Harry. " Hagrid led them through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a turned over trash can, one of the bar patrons peeing against the wall and a man selling watches from his coat.

Hagrid grinned at Harry. "Told yeh, didn't I? Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was trembling' ter meet yeh - mind you, he's usually tremblin'. " "Is he always that nervous?"

"Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studying outta books but then he took a gap year to get some firsthand experience. They say he went into muggle London by himself then got mugged by a group of teens for his Nikes. Scared of the students, scared of his own subject - now, where's me umbrella?"

Harry's head was swimming mostly because of the smell. Hagrid, meanwhile, was counting bricks in the wall above the trash can. "Three up, two across. " he muttered. "Right, stand back, Harry. "

He tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella.

The brick he had touched quivered and a second later they were facing an archway large enough, even for Hagrid, onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight and a man fell to the floor as he had leaned on the wall on the other end.

"Welcome," said Hagrid, "to Diagon Alley. " He grinned at Harry's amazement. They stepped through the archway. Harry looked quickly over his shoulder and saw the archway shrink instantly back into solid wall while the man yelled obscenities at Hagrid.

Harry wished he had about eight more eyes. He turned his head in every direction as they walked up the street, trying to look at everything at once: the shops, the things outside them, the people doing their shopping. Several boys of about Harry's age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. "Look," Harry heard one of them say, "I don't know who put super glue on the glass but the moment we are free someone's getting their ass kicked." There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Harry had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon.

"Gringotts," said Hagrid. They had reached a snowy white building that towered over the other little shops. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was some horrible looking creäture. "Yeah, that's a goblin," said Hagrid quietly as they walked up the white stone steps toward him. The goblin was about a head shorter than Harry. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, Harry noticed, very long fingers and feet. He bowed as they walked inside. Now they were facing a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them:

If you even THINK about taking a pen we will tear you a new asshole. "Like I said, Yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it," said Hagrid.

A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors and they were in a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses and going on raids with their guilds. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Hagrid and Harry made for the counter.

"Morning," said Hagrid to a free goblin. "We've come ter take some money outta Mr. Harry Potter's safe.". "Buddy I'm just the janitor go speak with one of my colleagues behind the desks". Trying this again Hagrid got asked for Harry's key.

"Got it here somewhere," said Hagrid, and he started emptying his pockets onto the counter, scattering a handful of roasted owl over the goblin's book of numbers. The goblin wrinkled his nose. Harry watched the goblin on their right calling over the security goblin 'Steve' who was readying his pipe.

"Got it," said Hagrid at last, holding up a tiny golden key.

The goblin looked at it closely. "That seems to be in order." A thought struck Harry "Wait is he allowed to have that?" Harry was ignored.

"An' I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore," said Hagrid importantly, throwing out his chest. "It's about the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen." The goblin read the letter carefully. "Sir this is a shopping list" he said, handing it back to Hagrid, "I will have someone take you down to Mr Potter's vault. Griphook!"

Griphook was yet another goblin. Once Hagrid had crammed all the owl back inside his pockets while internally panicking, he and Harry followed Griphook toward one of the doors leading off the hall.

"What's the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen?" Harry asked.

"Can't tell yeh that," said Hagrid mysteriously. "Very secret. Hogwarts business. Dumbledore's trusted me. More'n my job's worth ter tell yeh that." Harry thought again for the second time today. "Why did you say it out loud then if it's a secret?" Hagrid responded this time "Come on Harry be cool."

Griphook held the door open for them. Harry, who had expected more marble, was surprised. They were in a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply down and there were little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks toward them. They climbed in - Hagrid with some difficulty - and were off.

At first they just hurtled through a maze of twisting passages. The rattling cart seemed to know its own way, because Griphook wasn't steering he was checking his texts.

Harry's eyes stung as the cold air rushed past them, but he kept them wide open. They plunged even deeper, passing an underground lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites grew from the ceiling and floor.

"I never know," Harry called to Hagrid over the noise of the cart, "what's the difference between a stalagmite and a stalactite?"

"God I can see why you don't have friends" said Hagrid. "An' don' ask me questions just now, I think I'm gonna be sick."

He was sick, and the cart on opposite track happened to find that out more than they would have wanted. The cart stopped at last beside a small door in the passage wall, Hagrid got out and had to lean against the wall to stop his knees from trembling.

Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, Harry gasped. Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze Knuts. A statue of who he would later find out was his mother, topless wielding an assault rifle.

Ignoring the statue Harry stared at the money internally debating doing a Scrooge McDuck style dive into the money. "Go on Harry you know you want to," smiled Hagrid as if reading his mind. All Harry's it was incredible. The Dursleys couldn't have known about this or they'd have had it from him faster than blinking, despite that probably being illegal. Hagrid helped Harry pile some of it into a bag.

"The gold ones are Galleons," he explained. "Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, it's easy enough. Right, that should be enough for a couple terms, we'll keep the rest safe for yeh." He turned to Griphook. "Vault seven hundred and thirteen now, please, and can we go more slowly?"

"Only goes 2 speeds fast and ludicrous speed only," said Griphook, before something clicked "wait you were the guy with the shopping list". Griphook laughed for 20 minutes

One wild cart ride later they stood blinking in the sunlight outside Gringotts. Harry didn't know where to run first now that he had a bag full of money. He didn't have to know how many Galleons there were to a pound to know that he was holding more money than he'd had in his whole life - more money than even Dudley had ever had. Dudley however had more living parents than Harry, the number standing at 3 and a half.

"Might as well get yer uniform," said Hagrid, nodding toward Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Listen, Harry, would you mind if I slipped off for a bit? Anyone asks just say I'm at the pub." Hagrid said this while slipping on a balaclava and reloading his rifle. After watching Hagrid head back towards Gringotts, Harry entered Madam Malkin's shop alone, feeling nervous.

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve.

"Hogwarts, darling?" she said, when Harry started to speak. "Got another young" She paused for a second "man? being fitted up just now, in fact. "

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood Harry on a stool next to him slipped a long robe over his head, and began to pin it to the right length.

"Hello," said the... boy?, "Hogwarts, too?" "Yes," said Harry.

"My father's next door having his roots done and mother's up the street looking at wands," (I didn't even have to think of an innuendo for that one) said the... boy? He? had a bored, drawling voice. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow. "

Harry was strongly reminded of Dudley, though that was because of the amount of bullshit this kid was spouting. "Have you got your own broom?" the... boy? went on.

"No," said Harry. "Play Quidditch at all?"

"The fuck is quidditch?" Harry said again.

"I do, Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"What are you even talking about?" said Harry, feeling more annoyed by the minute.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you? OWWW"

The blonde boy? Yelled in pain as he was repeatedly jabbed with several needles by the tailor working on his robes, she happened to have been a Hufflepuff and proud. She rolled up her sleeve showing a tattoo of a swole badger smoking a cigar captioned with 'Hufflepuff's roll together die together'.

"I have a tattoo as well," said Harry, wishing he could say something a bit more interesting.

"I think I'm bleeding, hey look at that thing!" said the boy suddenly, nodding toward the front window. Hagrid was standing there, grinning at Harry and pointing at a package he definitely didn't have before.

"That's Hagrid," said Harry, pleased to know something the boy didn't. "He works at Hogwarts."

"Oh," said the boy, "I've heard of him. He's a sort of homeless man, isn't he?"

"He's the gamekeeper," said Harry. He was liking the boy? less and less every second.

"I heard he lives in a hut on the school grounds gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to the dorms."

"That's probably true" said Harry "Then again I have only known him a day and seen him ruin a toilet, threaten a bunch of people, mutilate someone, yell at a grieving woman, blow up an owl, delay the entire rail service, broke a bus, drink a bucket of whiskey, punch a man through a wall and now rob a bank if that Goblin security guard hitting with the steel pipe is anything to go by".

With a slight raise of an eyebrow. "Why is he with you? Where are your parents?"

"They're dead," said Harry shortly. He didn't feel much like going into the matter with this... boy?

"Oh, he didn't kill them did he?," said the other, Harry shook his head then the kid continued. "But they were our kind, weren't they?"

"What do you mean our kind? They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean."

"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname, anyway?"

But before Harry could ask whether everybody in the wizarding world was racist and point out the old wizarding families were likely 'keeping it in' already (they are inbred that's where I'm going with that), Madam Malkin said, "That's you done darling, come back soon" and Harry, not sorry for an excuse to stop talking to the boy, hopped down from the footstool.

"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," said the drawling boy. "Why the hell aren't you done yet? That's the third person to go by" he yelled at the tailor.

Harry was rather quiet as he and Hagrid hid from the police. "What's up?" said Hagrid.

"Nothing," Harry lied. They stopped to buy parchment and quills. Harry cheered up a bit when he found a bottle of ink that changed color as you wrote. When they had left the shop, he said, "Hagrid, what's Quidditch?"

"I keep forgettin' how little yeh know but your better off not knowing' about Quidditch". He told Hagrid about the pale boy in Madam Malkin's.

"and he said people from Muggle families shouldn't even be allowed in"

"Yer not from a Muggle family. If he'd known who you were - he's grown up knowing' your name if his parents are wizardin' folk. You saw what everyone in the Leaky Cauldron was like when they saw yeh. Anyway, what does he know about it, some o' the best I ever saw were the only ones with magic in 'em in a long line o' Muggles look at yer mum! Look what she had fer a sister, the one who married the fat guy not the other one"

"So what is Quidditch?"

"It's unfortunately our sport. Wizard sport. It's like over 90's scat orgies everyone knows about it but don't want to think about it or be a part of it but it happens." Hagrid shuddered then continued "It's played up in the air on broomsticks and there's four balls - sorta hard ter explain the rules."

"And what are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?"

"School houses. There's four. Everyone says Hufflepuff are a lot o' duffers, but they rule the world Harry". "I want to be in Hufflepuff sounds awesome," said Harry.

"Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin," said Hagrid darkly. "There's not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin. You-Know-Who was one. "

"Still just going for the stereotypes then? Voldemort was at Hogwarts?"

"Years and' years ago,signed my yearbook before I got expelled" said Hagrid.

They bought Harry's school books in a shop called Flourish and Blotts where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather; books the size of postage stamps in covers of silk; books full of peculiar symbols and a few books with nothing in them at all yet cost a whole buttload more.

Harry wouldn't let Hagrid buy a solid gold cauldron for him, either ("It says pewter on the list"), but they got a nice set of scales for weighing potion ingredients and a collapsible brass telescope. Then they visited the Apothecary, which was fascinating enough to make up for its horrible smell, a mixture of bad eggs and rotted cabbages. Barrels of slimy stuff stood on the floor; jars of herbs, dried roots, and bright powders lined the walls; bundles of feathers, strings of fangs, and snarled claws hung from the ceiling. While Hagrid asked the man behind the counter for a supply of some basic potion ingredients for Harry, Harry himself wondered if the magical world had ever heard of basic hygiene.

Outside the Apothecary, Hagrid checked Harry's list again.

"Just yer wand left, an' I still haven't got yeh a birthday present. "

Harry felt himself go red. "You don't have to-"

"I know I don't have to. Tell yeh what, I'll get yer animal. Not a toad, toads went outta fashion years ago, you'd be laughed at - an' I don't' like cats, they make me sneeze. I'll get yer an owl. All the kids want owls, they're dead useful, carry your mail and' everything'. "

"I don't really want a pet".

Twenty minutes later, they left Eeylops Owl Emporium, which had been dark and full of rustling and flickering, jewel-bright eyes. Harry now carried a large cage that held a beautiful snowy owl, fast asleep with her head under her wing. He couldn't stop stammering how bad an idea it was to give him an owl as a pet .

"Don't' mention it," said Hagrid not caring. "Just Ollivanders left now - only place fer wands, Ollivanders, and you gotta have the best wand. "

"Doesn't that make them the best by default? If they are the only one?"

The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B. C. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window. Hagrid said he was going to wait outside, when asked why Hagrid paled and said Harry would find out soon enough.

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place. Harry felt strangely as though he had entered a very weird place. For some reason, the back of his neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic. "Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Harry jumped.

An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop. "Where the hell did you come from?" said Harry awkwardly.

"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Potter. " It wasn't a question. "You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work. "

Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Harry. Harry wished he would wipe the drool from his mouth. It was a bit creepy.

"Your father, however, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it, it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course. "

Mr. Ollivander had come so close that he and Harry were almost nose to nose. Harry could see himself reflected in those misty eyes and feel the heat from his erection.

"And that's where"

Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Harry's forehead with a long, white finger.

"I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do."

He shook his head and then, to Harry's relief, backed up a foot and a half.

"Hmmm," said Mr. Ollivander who was now rubbing himself with several wands . "Well, now Mr. Potter. Let me see. "He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"

Harry suddenly realized that the breathy way he spoke reminded him of the guys who hung out at the back of the pageants in trenchcoats. "Your not going to do anything inappropriate are you I know a giant with a gun" Harry warned. Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes.

To his surprise the old man laughed "No, no Mr. Potter I am not. I am sick of people asking me that though" He fell to the floor and side rolled over to the disturbed 11 year old. "Mr. Potter I am above such base joys of the FLESH for me it is all about mmmm Mahogany, Elm, Holly and ungh Birch" he whispered out in growing excitement and visibly shrinking pants.

After regaining his wits he raised a wand for Harry. An actual wand this time.

Harry took the wand stared at the creepy old man with narrowed eyes, Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once.

"Hmmm no lets try this." He immediately slithered across the floor like a serpent and started rooting for various wands. "Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try"

Harry didn't try it, as it was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander who then slowly licked the item.

"No, no here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out."

Harry stared. He had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was even doing. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become, almost as if he was about to explode.

"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere. I wonder, now yes, why not unusual combination holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple." He said with a shudder.

Harry took the wand. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold blast shot from the end like a cannon, hitting a man entering throwing him down the street while his family screamed. Mr. Ollivander cried in ecstasy while rolling in the discarded pile of wands rubbing a few on his sensitive nipples, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, how curious. how very curious." He whispered wiping himself down.

He put Harry's wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, "Curious."

"Sorry," said Harry, "Can I go now?" Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave just one other because he was lazy. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother gave you that scar. "

Harry swallowed mostly because Mr. Ollivander's pants had dropped.

Harry shivered. He wasn't sure he liked Mr. Ollivander too much. He paid seven gold Galleons for his wand, and Mr. Ollivander bowed him from his shop.

Harry didn't speak at all as they walked down the road; Harry only realized where they were when Hagrid tapped him on the shoulder. "Got time for a bite to eat before yer train leaves," he said.

He bought himself 100 hamburgers and they sat down on plastic seats to eat them. Harry kept looking around. Everything looked so strange, somehow. "You all right, Harry? Yer very quiet," said Hagrid through mouthfuls of cheap, I want to say beef. I hope it was beef I had a burger once in a train station almost blew my asshole off.

Harry wasn't sure he could explain. He'd just had the best birthday of his life - and yet - his stomach rumbled he wished he had exchanged some money before leaving the alley.

"Everyone seems like weird assholes" he said at last. "All those people in the Leaky Cauldron, Professor Quirrell, that prick in the clothes shop, Mr. Ollivander but I don't know anything about magic at all. How can they even function? I'm famous and I can't even remember what I'm famous for. I don't know what happened when Voldemort murdered my parents. "

Hagrid leaned across the table. Behind the wild beard and eyebrows he wore a very kind smile.

"Don't you worry, Harry. You'll learn fast enough. Everyone starts at the beginning at Hogwarts, except those with magical parents who are alive. I'm sure you'll be just fine. Just try to be less like yourself. I know it's hard. But you'll have a great time at Hogwarts, I did, still do. "

Hagrid helped Harry on the train that would take him back to the Dursleys, then handed him an envelope.

"Your ticket for Hogwarts, " he said. "First of September. King's Cross it's all on yer ticket. Any problems with the Dursleys, send me a letter with yer owl, she'll know where to find me. See you soon, Harry. "

The train pulled out of the station. Harry wanted to watch Hagrid until he was out of sight; he rose in his seat and pressed his nose against the window, but he blinked and Hagrid had gone once again breaking the no magic rule.

_**A.N. As always thanks for readin if you like do the thing the fanfiction thing. Oh yeah Ed asked me why I keep making Harry in a dress jokes so I told him to look up the Jonny Duddle hp book covers (specifically chamber) and he would have his answer. **_

_**Anyways next time Harry gets a train the dursleys are fat and the red headed villain of the series appears. tune in next time same bat time same bat channel.**_


	6. The magic carpets all had punctures

_**A.N. oh hi I didnt see you come in set up your computer go to fanfiction and look up this fic... anyways finally getting into the magical stuff so enjoy or whatever.**_

Chapter 6

Harry's last month with the Dursleys wasn't fun. Both Dudley and Uncle Vernon were now so scared of Harry they wouldn't stay in the same room, which often ended up in a combination of fat masses damaging door frames. Aunt Petunia didn't force him to do anything, or shout at him, in fact, she didn't speak to him at all. All she did was sit weeping at photos of her murdered sister drinking bottle after bottle of vodka in her dressing gown. Although this was an improvement in many ways, it did become a bit depressing and weird after a while.

Harry kept to his room, with his new owl for company. He had decided to call her Hedwig, a name he had found in A History of Magic under the famous wizards with stupid names section. His school books weren't very interesting they were school books after all. He laid on his bed reading late into the night trying to bring himself up to date on an entirely new subject, Hedwig swooping in and out of the open window as she pleased. Every night before he went to sleep, Harry ticked off another day on the piece of paper he had pinned to the wall, wishing he had an actual calendar.

On the last day of August he thought he'd better speak to his aunt and uncle about getting to King's Cross station the next day he did chide himself for not doing it sooner, so he went down to the living room where they were watching a travel channel food show no doubt wanting everything. He cleared his throat to let them know he was there, and Dudley squealed and ran into the wall.

"Uncle Vernon?" Uncle Vernon let out a few panic farts and grunted to show he was listening. "I need to be at King's Cross tomorrow to go to Hogwarts." Uncle Vernon grunted again. "Would it be all right if you gave me a lift?" Grunt. Harry supposed that meant yes. "Thank you. "

He was about to go back upstairs when Uncle Vernon actually spoke."Funny way to get to a wizards' school, the train. Magic carpets all got punctures, have they?" Harry didn't say anything. It was an absolutely terrible joke and he wanted his Uncle to stew in his shame, carpets don't have any fucking wheels. "Where is this school, anyway?"

"I don't know," said Harry, realising this for the first time. He pulled the ticket Hagrid had given him out of his pocket. "I just take the train from platform nine and three-quarters at eleven o'clock," he read. His Uncle farted. His aunt burst into tears, most likely at the memories of her 12-year-old sister riding a motorcycle through a magical portal, gone for 10 months. "Platform what?". "Nine and three-quarters. " "Don't talk bollocks" said Uncle Vernon. "There is no platform nine and three-quarters."

"Your son was given a pig's tail by a magical giant and you are doubting whether a platform exists."

"Bullshit" said Uncle Vernon, "mad, the lot of them. You'll see. You just wait. All right, we'll take you to King's Cross. We're going up to London tomorrow anyway, or I wouldn't bother."

"Why are you going to London?" Harry asked, trying to keep things friendly.

"Taking Dudley to the hospital" growled Uncle Vernon. "Gotta have that fecking tail removed before he goes to Smeltings. It's bad enough there without giving them something to grab for leverage"

Harry woke at five o'clock the next morning partly because he was too excited and nervous to go back to sleep but mostly because his Aunt had stumbled into his room put a bright red and flowing wig on him and kept calling him Lily. After an hour-long conversation he got her to leave then pulled on his jeans because he didn't want to walk into the station in his wizard's robes (or the frilled dress) he'd change on the train. He checked his Hogwarts list yet again to make sure he had everything he needed (which was a stupid idea on the day he was going), saw that Hedwig was safely shut in her cage, and then paced the room, waiting for the big fat Dursleys to get up. Two hours later with Harry's huge, heavy, hefty ham-filled cousin now loaded into the Dursleys' car they were ready to set off, Aunt Petunia had talked Dudley into sitting next to Harry by giving him a bucket of chocolate covered pork scratchings.

They reached King's Cross at half past ten they would have been there a lot sooner had Vernon not got into an argument at the McDonalds drive through. Uncle Vernon dumped Harry's trunk on a cart and wheeled it into the station for him. Harry thought this was strangely kind until Uncle Vernon stopped dead, his heart started again despite the artery blockage, regaining his senses he faced the platforms with a nasty grin on his face.

"Well, there you are, asshole. Platform nine, platform ten. Your platform should be somewhere in the middle, but they don't seem to have built it yet, do they?"

He was sort of right, if you ignore the major magical factor. There was a big plastic number nine over one platform and a big plastic number ten over the one next to it, and in the middle, nothing at all except a homeless man being asked to leave.

"It's entirely magical Uncle Vernon, need I remind you again of the giant who stole your gun, and porked your son?"

"Have a good term," said Uncle Vernon with an even bigger shit eating grin. He left without another word, just several wheezing gasps as he moved faster than his usual waddle. Harry turned and saw the Dursleys drive away recognising his uncles bare ass pressed against the front and back windows of his car, mooning him as they drove by. Harry's mouth went rather dry. He was starting to attract a lot of funny looks, probably because he was an unattended child being mooned by a mobile tub of lard.

Harry mused that Hagrid had forgotten to tell him something you had to do, like tapping the third brick on the left to get into Diagon Alley. He wondered how he would get Hagrid back for that. Shrugging it off he turned to head towards the barrier.

At that moment a group of people passed knocking into him and he caught a few words of what they were saying. "packed with Muggles, of course" One slurred. Harry swung his arm round tossing his half full can of coke at the racist bitch who hit him. The speaker was a plump woman who was talking to four boys, all with flaming red hair. Each of them was pushing a trunk like Harry's in front of him.

Heart hammering, Harry pushed his cart after them pretending he didn't see who conked the plump woman with the can. They stopped and so did he, just near enough to hear what they were saying. "Now, what's the platform number?" said the boys' mother. "Nine and three-quarters!" piped a small girl, also red-headed, who was struggling to get out of her mother's grip, "Mom, how do you not know that by now you have done this about 10 times already. "

"Ginny be quiet. All right, Percy, you go first."

"Why? It's more than big enough for all of us mom, look that family just went through. Have you been drinking again?" The girl chirped.

"GINNY SHUT UP, PERCY FUCKING GO!" she screeched. With a shake of his head what looked like the oldest boy marched toward platforms nine and ten. Harry watched, careful not to blink in case he missed the fat woman lose her temper and go ape shit, just as the boy reached the dividing barrier between the two platforms, a large crowd of tourists came swarming in front of him and by the time the last backpack had cleared away, the boy had vanished.

"Fred, you next," the plump woman said. "I'm not Fred, I'm George," said the boy. "Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother? Can't you tell I'm George?"

"Sorry, George, dear." "You don't sound it" said the boy, and off he went. His twin called after him to hurry up, and he must have done so, because a second later, he had gone. Now the third brother was walking briskly toward the barrier he was almost there and then, quite suddenly, he wasn't anywhere. There was nothing else for it, it was going to take forever if this family insisted on single file. "Excuse me," Harry said to the plump woman.

"Hello, dear," she said. "First time at Hogwarts? Ron's new, too." She pointed at the last and youngest of her sons. He was tall, thin, and gangling, with freckles, big hands and feet, a long nose and yellow teeth. Ron was pushing over a young girl for her ice cream. "That's nice" said Harry in the most insincere way he could. "The thing is, I'd like to"

"To know how to get to the platform?" she slurred in a way she thought was kind, cutting him off and Harry shook his head. "No and its rude to interrupt people I was going to ask you to get out-of-the-way so I can get on the platform".

"Oh" she said face contorted in anger. "Go on, go now before Ron." She would likely have to do something about the muscled father of the crying little girl repeatedly punching her worst son in the face.

He pushed his trolley around and stared at the barrier. It looked very solid. He started to walk toward it. People jostled him on their way to platforms nine and ten. Harry walked more quickly. Although he knew how to get to the platform due to a deal he made with his Aunt (5 pictures in the dress and wig and she tells him how to get on the platform) it was still a bit nerve-wracking.

A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said Hogwarts' Express, eleven o'clock. Harry looked behind him and saw a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been, with the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on it, He had done it.

Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every colour wound here and there between their legs, tripping people over. Owls hooted to one another in a disgruntled sort of way over the Looney Tunes style sounds.

The first few carriages were already packed with students, some hanging out of the window to talk to their families, some fist fighting over seats and even one guy getting smashed through the window by a punk girl wielding a bat. Harry pushed his cart off down the platform in search of an empty seat. He passed a round-faced boy who was saying, "Gran, I've lost my toad again."

"Oh, for fucks sake Neville," he heard the old woman sigh. A boy with dreadlocks was surrounded by a small crowd. "Give us a look, Lee, go on." The boy lifted the lid of a box in his arms, and the people around him shrieked and yelled as something inside, well the only adjective I think would adequately describe what happened is 'flopped' out.

Dick in a box, always funny.

Harry pressed on through the crowd until he found an empty compartment near the end of the train. He put Hedwig inside first and then started to shove and heave his trunk toward the train door. He tried to lift it up the steps but could hardly raise one end and twice he dropped it.

"Want a hand?" It was one of the red-haired twins he'd followed through the barrier. "No I just want to continue making an ass out of myself" Harry panted out sarcastically. "Oy, Fred! C'mere and help!"

With the twins' help, Harry's trunk was at last tucked away in a corner of the compartment.

"Thanks," said Harry, pushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes while wishing he had help from someone who could do the spell on the first fucking page of his charms book.

"What's that?" said one of the twins suddenly, pointing at Harry's lightning scar.

"Blimey," said the other twin clearly pretending he is a Victorian chimney sweep. "Are you?"

"He is," said the first twin. "Aren't you?" he added to Harry. "What the fuck is going on here?" said Harry. "Harry Potter. " chorused the twins.

"Yeah and?" said Harry. The two boys gawked at him, and Harry felt himself getting annoyed and uncomfortable. Then, without breaking eye contact Harry slowly closed the compartment door. With a last look at Harry, the twins hopped off the train.

Harry sat down next to the window where, half hidden, he could watch the red-haired family on the platform and hear what they were saying. Their mother had just taken out her handkerchief.

"Ron, you've got something on your nose."

The youngest boy tried to jerk away, but she grabbed him put him in a headlock and began rubbing the end of his nose. "Mom piss off" He wriggled free. "Ha ha Ron looks like he had his ass kicked" said one of the twins. "Shut up," said Ron taking a swing at his brother. A simple block and chop combo was enough to put him on his ass.

"Where's Percy?" said their mother. "He's coming now." The oldest boy came striding into sight. He had already changed into his billowing black Hogwarts robes, and Harry noticed a shiny silver badge on his chest with the letter P on it. "Can't stay long, Mother," he said. "I don't really like your company"

"Oh, are you a prefect, Percy?" said one of the twins, with an air of great surprise. "You should have said something, we had no idea." "Hang on, I think I remember him saying something about it, right before mom threw up on that girl he likes" said the other twin. "Oh, shut up," said Percy the Cockblocked.

"How come Percy gets new robes, anyway?" said one of the twins. "Because he got a summer job." said their mother. "All right, dear, well, have a good term send me an owl when you get there." She attempted to kiss Percy on the cheek but he had already left. Then she turned to the twins.

"Now, you two this year, you behave yourselves. If I get one more owl telling me you've replaced Dumbledore's candy with Viagra again or blown up a toilet or"

"Blown up a toilet? We've never blown up a toilet, at school at least. " "Great idea though, thanks, Mom."

"It's not funny. And look after Ron."

"Ha ha no. Especially after what he did to Eric". George looked sad "I miss Eric"

"Shut up, Erics dead" said Ron. Eric was the first third of the Weasley triplets I wont say what happened but I will say they were asked to identify a bucket full of their brother.

Ron really wanted that sandwich.

"Hey, Mom, guess what? Guess who we just met on the train?" Harry leaned back quickly so they couldn't see him looking. "You know that black-haired boy with the simply gorgeous eyelashes, who was near us in the station? Know who he is?"

"Who?" she asked sobering up quicker than she would like "Harry Potter!".

Harry heard the little girl's scream shattering several windows and eardrums. "Oh, Mom, can I go on the train and see him, Mom, eh please."

"You've already seen him, Ginny, and remember what I always tell you always check out the ass. Is he really, Fred? How do you know?"

"I'm George for fucks sake and I asked him. Saw his scar. It's really there like lightning."

"Poor dear, no wonder he was alone and had no manners." The group went silent then looked confused, they were sure they heard someone loudly cough 'BITCH!' before they continued. "Never mind that, do you think he remembers what You-Know-Who looks like? Or how his parents got their asses kicked?" Their mother suddenly became very stern. "I forbid you to ask him, Fred or George. No, don't you dare. As though he needs reminding of that on his first day at school. "

"I think it might be a little late for that" said Fred motioning the form of a pissed Harry Potter at the train window flipping them off. A whistle sounded.

"Hurry up!" their mother said, and the three boys clambered on the train. They refused to lean out of the window for her to kiss them good-bye, and their younger sister began to cry.

The train began to move. Harry saw the boys' mother waving and their sister, crying that she would be stuck alone with their mother, running to keep up with the train until it gathered too much speed, then she fell back and waved.

Harry watched the girl and her mother disappear as the train rounded the corner still flipping them off as hard as he could. Houses flashed past the window. Harry felt a great leap of excitement. He didn't know what he was going to - but it had to be better than what he was leaving just had to be.

The door of the compartment slid open and a girl with a backwards baseball cap holding a football; An American Football, entered the compartment. Her entire demeanour screamed cool.

"Sup. it okay if I sit here?" she asked, nodding at the seat opposite Harry. "I figure the two of us can keep that ginger asshat out of here if he tries to get in". She wasn't happy about her 3-year-old sister being pushed to the floor and ice cream stolen. Her biggest hope now was her dads superbowl rings left scars. Harry eagerly nodded his head and the girl sat down and introduced herself as Samantha Smith. They were soon joined by another two new starters avoiding the weird smell. One was a meek young man with fairly ragged clothes by the name of Michael 'Mikey' Taylor, He seemed fairly nervous at first but as he was brought into the conversation more and more he showed a caring and funny side that endeared him to the group. The other a seemingly stern young lady from a well to do family by the name Elizabeth Wilson (Always Elizabeth never Beth), she seemed disinterested and distant at first as she read her books but as the stories and the chatting went on she joined in with a wit as sharp as her mind.

Not even two hours later the four were laughing joking like they had known each other for years. None of them would admit it just yet but each of them knew that this would be the start of friendships that would last a lifetime.

"So wait." Said Elizabeth "Your Uncle; Obese man who crashed into my grandmother's car because he was mooning you, purchased an unregistered gun from this random fisherman then asked for a private place to take his family where no one would be able to get to them and this fisherman WHO SOLD HIM A GUN sees no alarm bells with this?" She asked Harry incredulously while the other two laughed.

Harry rubbed his chin "Now that you mention it, that is weird" stopping the story of how he got his letter. "He also sold him a big sausage, no one was sure what was going on." Harry stood and stretched "Excuse me guys just going to go to the toilet" Harry said and shuffled past the group into the hall.

The three left returned to an easy conversation until a noise broke their joy all turning to the door of the compartment to see a sight that would haunt them. There was a long gangly form of a boy their age staring at the pile of candy and chocolate laying on the table; which Harry had generously bought for the group, while fogging up the glass with his heavy breathing and erection.

"What does it want?" asked Elizabeth, "Its staring at the sweets, maybe if we give it what it wants it will go away" chipped in Mikey. That was their first and last mistake.

Harry whistled as he strolled back down the train to his compartment around 30 minutes later that burger he had from the train station still ruining his insides, despite this he was in the first good mood he could remember. His mood was so good he didn't question half of the acts of random wackiness and violence he passed. He thought he saw Mikey's watch on the wrist hanging from under the roll of tarp the staff were hurling from the train but shrugged it off.

He entered the compartment while cleaning his glasses unable to see much other than blurs of colours as he sat down wondering if magic could fix his astigmatism.

Slipping back on his glasses he saw the room was mostly empty only his trunk and the snacks he purchased were left. Well a few of the snacks mostly it was empty wrappers. Harry then noticed he was not alone opposite was the red headed kid he saw on the platform stuffing his face with the items he bought. Ron he thinks. Harry stared in silence for a few seconds as this Ron continued eating burping and farting. Harry was about to ask why he was here when Ron noticed him.

"Are you really Harry Potter?" Ron blurted out spitting pastry over the compartment. Harry nodded slowly taken aback at the abrupt question.

"I thought Fred and George were full of shit" said Ron. "And have you really got you know." He pointed at Harry's forehead. "Where You-Know-Who fucked your face up?"

"Yes," said Harry, "I have a scar but what is wrong with you?"

"Wow," said Ron. He sat and stared at Harry for a few moments, then went back to shovelling food in his face. "Are all your family assholes or just you?" asked Harry, his aunt had told him to take no shit. The other aunt not the one married to the fat guy. "and where did my friends go?"

"Yeah they are," said Ron angrily. "Especially my mom and dad they are always telling me what to do. Pricks. I bet your parents sucked too"

"I don't have parents" Harry said not quite believing the conversation he was having "They were murdered."

Ron looked wistfully at Harry "You are so lucky, I heard you went to live with Muggles," said Ron. "What are they like?" Harry was still reeling from the shear insensitivity of this guy "Yeah I did" Shaking his head he decided to make it clear to this guy he needs to fuck right off. "Listen are your three brothers as bad as you because I couldn't imagine a worse hell".

"Five," said Ron. For every reason, he was looking gloomy. "I'm the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I've got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left. Bill was head boy and Charlie was captain of Quidditch. Now Percy's a prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks and everyone thinks they're really funny. Nobody expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it's no big deal, because they will think I'm blackmailing someone. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. I've got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand, and Percy's old rat. "

Ron reached inside his jacket and pulled out a fat gray rat, which was asleep.

"His name's Scabbers and he's useless, he hardly ever wakes up. Percy got an owl from my dad for being made a prefect, but they couldn't afford to get me anything, I got Scabbers instead. Lousy bastards at least your parents are dead."

While Harry had asked Ron to leave, the train had carried them out of London. Now they were speeding past fields full of cows and sheep. They were quiet for a time, one watching the fields and lanes flick past, the other wishing Ron would leave.

Ron had taken out a lumpy package and unwrapped it. There were four what looked like sandwiches inside. He pulled one of them apart and said, "She always forgets I don't like cardboard . "

"I wish I had a mother to forget I like stuff" said Harry, holding up his middle finger. "What are these?" Harry asked no one in particular, holding up a pack of Chocolate Frogs he found stashed behind his trunk while searching for something to strike Ron with. "Huh a note?" He saw a piece of paper with words written in red shakily stating 'NOT SUICIDE, IT WAS RO…'.

The note and box were snatched from his grip by dirty hands, with a crooked smile Ron ripped the box open "Chocolate Frogs have cards, inside them, you know, to collect famous witches and wizards. I've got about five hundred, but I haven't got Agrippa or Ptolemy. "

Harry glared as Ron unwrapped his stolen Chocolate Frogs and picked up the card. It showed a man's face. He wore half-moon glasses, had a long, crooked nose, and flowing silver hair, beard, and mustache. Underneath the picture was the name Albus Dumbledore. Ron scoffed and tossed the card in Harry's face. "So this is Dumbledore!" said Harry.

"Don't tell me you'd never heard of Dumbledore!" said Ron. "I lived with my non-magical relatives and only found out a month ago about this world you prick" Harry sighed and turned over his card and read:

ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

CURRENTLY HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS

Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel and for changing actors every couple of films. Professor Dumbledore enjoys Pop Music and Mixed Martial Arts.

Harry turned the card back over and saw, to his astonishment, that Dumbledore's face had disappeared. "He's gone!"

"Well, you can't expect him to hang around all day," said Ron. "He'll be back. Balls! I've got Morgana again and I've got about six of her. "

Ron's eyes strayed to the pile of Chocolate Frogs waiting to be unwrapped. Harrys mind however wondered if these were mass-produced card where the millions of copies of these people would go and whether they have their own thoughts and feelings.

Little did Harry know they are all connected to a giant nightclub where they all party like there is no tomorrow.

Harry stared as Dumbledore sidled back into the picture on his card, quite tipsy, and gave him a small smile. Harry idly wondered why animals, inanimate objects and old men seemed to constantly flirt with him.

Ron was more interested in eating the frogs than looking at the Famous Witches and Wizards cards, but Harry couldn't keep his hate filled eyes off Ron. Why the flying fuck wouldn't he leave. The countryside now flying past the window was becoming wilder. The neat fields had gone. Now there were woods, twisting rivers, and dark green hills.

There was a knock on the door of their compartment and the round-faced boy Harry had passed on platform nine and three-quarters came in. He looked tearful. "Sorry," he said, "but have you seen a toad at all?" When Ron laughed, called him a loser and said his toad was probably dead, he wailed, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!" "Ignore this asshole, he'll turn up," said Harry. "I'd help you look but I don't trust this guy left alone with my stuff".

"Yes I wouldn't either," said the boy miserably. "Well, if you see him."

He left, he was the lucky one.

"Don't know why he's so bothered," said Ron. "If I'd brought a toad I'd just kill myself" He then turned his ire at the rat was still snoozing on his lap. "This thing might have died and you wouldn't know the difference," said Ron in disgust. "I tried to turn him yellow yesterday to make him more interesting, but the spell didn't work. I'll show you, look."

He rummaged around in, what Harry assumed was his trunk (though it did look like a name 'M..ey' had been scratched out and his written on) and pulled out a very battered-looking wand. It was chipped in places and something white was glinting at the end.

"Unicorn hair's nearly poking out. Anyway" He had just raised his wand when the compartment door slid open again. The toadless boy was back, but this time he had a girl with him. She was already wearing her new Hogwarts robes. "Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she said. She had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair, and rather large front teeth.

"We've already told him we haven't seen it you bitch," shouted Ron, but the girl wasn't listening, she was looking at the wand in his hand. Thankfully it was an actual wand, any other day it would not have been. "Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it, then." She sat down next to Harry who had the window open to cut the smell. Ron looked pissed, how dare she tell him what to do. "Stupid bitch." He cleared his throat. "Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow." He waved his wand, but nothing happened. Scabbers stayed gray and fast asleep.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" said the girl, while the other two laughed. "Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard - I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?" She said all this very fast.

Harry looked at Ron, and was glad to see by his enraged face that he made an absolute ass of himself. Ron was from a wizarding family and has seen magic performed everyday of his life and yet thought a shitty rhyme was a spell. The first page of the charms book literally has the sentence 'Witches and Wizards never cast spell using rhymes because it's fucking stupid. What do you mean I can't swear in a kids textbook? I will swear whenever the fuck I want Ted'.

"Eat shit and Die you muggle Cu-" Ron yelled before Harry cut across with a quick jab to his face.

"Harry Potter," said Harry. "Are you really?" said Hermione. "I know all about you, of course. I got a few extra books, for background reading, and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century and Witches Weekly's 100 greatest asses." She secretly agreed with the assessment definitely deserved 6th place.

Fernando took 1st place again. No one beats Fernando.

"Am I?" said Harry, feeling dazed he knew his legs and eyelashes were good, all those squats were paying off he guessed. "Goodness, didn't you know, I'd have found out everything I could if it was me," said Hermione.

Feeling annoyed at the comment Harry decided to retort. "Yes well sadly I was coming to terms with being lied to for 10 years, finding out that my parents were murdered instead of abandoning me and being stuck in an unloving home unable to reach the other world I found out about less than a month ago to want to see what other people have said about me." She had the decency to look embarrassed and mutter out a sorry before trying to ease the tension in the air. Don't piss off famous and hot people when you first meet them her parents had told her that for years.

"Do either of you know what house you'll be in? I've asked around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best" Harry shook his head at that he wanted to be in Hufflepuff they ruled everything. "I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad. Anyway, we'd better go and look for Neville's toad. You two had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon." And she left, taking the toadless boy with her.

"Whatever house I'm in, I hope she's not in it," said Ron. He threw his wand back into his trunk. "Stupid spell, I took it from George's room, bet he knew it was a dud." George did know it was a dud he wanted Ron to stop stealing from his room.

"When did you say you were leaving Ron?" sighed Harry.

"Did you hear about Gringotts? It's been all over the Daily Prophet, but I don't suppose you get that with the Muggles. Someone tried to rob a high security vault." Harry stared. "You're not going to leave are you?"

"It's weird the same vault got broken into twice within an hour, first time it was a big man in a balaclava second time guy breaks in yells 'fuck' then leaves. Its weird." Harry turned this news over in his mind. He knew the first time it was Hagrid because he had to give an alibi. The second had him worried.

"What's your Quidditch team?" Ron asked. "The fuck is Quidditch?" Harry asked. "What!" Ron looked dumbfounded. "Oh, you wait, it's the best game in the world" It wasn't the best game in the world but he was off, explaining all about the four balls and the positions of the seven players, describing famous games he'd been to and ruined and the broomstick he'd like to get if he could get past the security guards. He was just taking Harry through the finer points about the Chudley Cannons; (What do you mean the keeper is a sack of potatoes. HOW DOES THAT EVEN FUCKING WORK RON?) when the compartment door slid open yet again, but it wasn't Neville the toadless boy, Hermione Granger or even the three friends he missed more and more by the second.

Three people entered, and Harry recognized the middle one at once: it was the pale, he wants to say boy? from Madam Malkin's robe shop. He was looking at Harry with a lot more interest than he'd shown back in Diagon Alley, it made him uncomfortable. "Is it true?" he said. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

"No," said Harry, the group then left muttering apologies and he turned back to Ron "So do people know he's a sack of potatoes and are okay with it? Or do they not care? HOW IS THIS EVEN A THING?". A couple of minutes later the door opened again and Harry turned to see who entered. It was the same three as before. Looking at the other boys. Both of them were thickset and looked extremely stupid. Standing on either side of the pale boy, they looked like bodyguards. There was a tense silence as blonde between the mountains glared at Harry. Harry sighed clearly sarcasm was not a huge thing in Wizarding Britain. "Yes I am Harry Potter, Tadah"

"This is Crabbe and this is Goyle," said the pale boy in an annoyed way, noticing where Harry was looking. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." This kid think he is James Bond or something? Ron gave a slight cough, which might have hidden a snigger. Draco Malfoy looked at him. "Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford due to their mothers drinking habit."

He turned back to Harry. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there." He held out his hand to shake Harry's, but Harry didn't take it. "Why are you acting like a mob boss?," he said raising an eyebrow. "You do know you are eleven right?" Draco Malfoy didn't go red, but a pink tinge appeared in his pale cheeks. Crabbe thought it cute Draco was blushing she seemed like a nice girl not as hot as the one with glasses though. Goyle looked confused he wasn't sure why Wizards even had trains, maybe all the magic carpets got punctures.

"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter," he said slowly. "Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you." Ron stood up and Harry vomited at the thought of either Hagrid or Ron 'rubbing off' on him. "Say that again," Ron said, his face as red as his hair. "Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?" Malfoy sneered. "Bluuurgh" said Harry, as he was emptying his stomach. Harry had the foresight to vomit into Ron's open trunk. Malfoy noticed something gold glittering in the trunk. "Wait is that my watch? Goyle mind grabbing it for me while I kick this shit out of this asshole?" What he meant was while Crabbe kicks his ass.

Goyle reached toward the trunk whether to get the watch or hold Harry's hair back we will never know as Ron leapt forward, but before he'd so much as touched Goyle, Goyle let out a horrible yell.

Scabbers the rat was hanging off his finger, sharp little teeth sunk deep into Goyle's knuckle - Crabbe and Malfoy backed away as Goyle swung Scabbers round and round, howling, and when Scabbers finally flew off and hit the window, all three of them disappeared at once. Perhaps they thought there were more rats lurking among Rons belonging, frankly it was a very real possibility or perhaps they'd heard footsteps, because a second later, Hermione Granger had come in.

"What has been going on?" she said, looking at the heavily breathing and sweating Harry (even as he hurls he is beautiful) and Ron picking up Scabbers by his tail. "I think he's been knocked out," Ron said to Harry. He looked closer at Scabbers. "No, he's dead". Ron launched the dead rat towards Hermione, she jumped out of the way and he flew into the compartment opposite. There were loud screams from several teenage girls ruining their friend's birthday celebration. Soon after a fat balding man burst from the compartment in full view of everyone covered in cake and ran down the hall.

"You've met Malfoy before?" Harry didn't explain anything he was trying not to throw up and waving off the concern Hermione was showing rubbing his back.

"I've heard of his family," said Ron darkly. "They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they'd been bewitched or watching bewitched. My dad doesn't believe it. He says Malfoy's father didn't need an excuse to play for the other team and I was the load my mom should have spit out " He turned to Hermione. "Can you piss off?"

"You'd better hurry up and put your robes on, I've just been up to the front to ask the conductor, and he says we're nearly there and to go away. You haven't been fighting, have you? You'll be in trouble before we even get there!"

"Scabbers has been fighting, not us, didn't even get a chance to get a hit in" said Ron, scowling at her. As though called by his name Scabbers came jumping in and climbed into Rons trunk. Which he regretted immediately as he was swimming in bile. "Would you fuck off while we change?" Hermione was torn one the one hand Harry would be changing on the other just fucking Ron.

"All right, I only came in here because people outside are behaving very childishly, racing up and down the corridors, throwing pies and hotting each other with Suplexes" said Hermione in a sniffy voice. "And you've got blood on your nose, by the way, I hope it hurts." Ron glared at her as she left. Harry hung out of the window to get air. It was getting dark. He could see mountains and forests under a deep purple sky. The train did seem to be slowing down. He and Ron took off their jackets and pulled on their long black robes. Ron's had the name 'Michael' stitched in to them and were a bit short for him, you could see his Nikes underneath them. Harry asked where he got them, from some stuttering asshole he mugged in London Ron answered.

A voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately. God I hate all these bastard kids. Yeah I know it's still on."

The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. Harry shivered in the cold night air. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and Harry heard a familiar voice: "First years! First years over here! All right there, Harry?" Hagrid's big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads. Harry yelled back "YOU FORGOT TO TELL ME HOW TO GET ON THE PLATFORM YOU HAIRY BASTARD!"

"C'mon, follow me any more first years? Mind your step, now! First years follow me!" Hagrid continued pretending he hadn't heard what Harry yelled. "DON'T PRETEND YOU DIDN'T HEAR ME"

Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Harry thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much. Neville, the boy who kept losing his toad, sniffed once or twice. "You'll get yer first sight of Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "just round this bend here." There was a long loud scream and a splash, the group of school children looked over the cliff edge which the giant had fallen over.

Ten minutes later the soaked giant had made his way back and guided them down to the lakeshore after taking the right turn this time. The narrow path had opened suddenly to the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

"No more than four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Harry, Neville and Hermione were followed into their boat by Ron. "Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. "Right then - FORWARD!"

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, making the farting all the louder, while staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they clambered out on to rocks and pebbles. "Oy, you there! Is this your toad? You look like the kind of loser to have a toad" said Hagrid, who was checking the boats as people climbed out of them.

"Trevor!" cried Neville shaking and dripping wet due to being pushed in the water by Ron. Then they clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.

They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door.

"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad? How many times do I have to say I'm sorry Harry?".

"ONCE HAGRID, JUST ONCE" Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

**_A.N. So there we go hope you enjoyed it R and R etc. Next time we watch as Harry has his dorm selected. Aint we lucky_**

**_Also I have a barren ass Tumbr now. I dont even know why I did it but I will be putting on completely mediocre drawlings I do on there related to this story so link on my profile._**


	7. Dorm selection woo

**A.N. Hey guys its me your favourite... wait no that aint it... I'm that guy who you see get on the bus when you notice no other free seats. Anyways How are you? I am fine I have written this chapter just for you no one else. Don't question it you have to trust me on this.**

Chapter 7

The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes smoking a cigarette stood there. She had a very stern face and Harry's first thought was that this was not someone to piss off unless you wanted a lifetime supply of her boot up your ass.

"The first years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid. "You took your sweet time, Hagrid. Thought you got some killed. Again! I will take them from here."

She pulled the door wide tossing the rest of her cigarette. The entrance hall was so big you could have fit the Dursleys' entire recycling bin in it. They go through a lot of fast food polystyrene containers.

The stone walls were lit with flaming torches and covered in graffiti exactly like the ones at Gringotts, Harry didn't know who L. Evans was but apparently she was hot.

They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Harry could hear the drone of hundreds of voices yelling the same thing from a doorway to the right - the rest of the school must already be here and watching a fight - but Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously, especially when she took the whip from the wall.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall with a loud crack shattering a vase. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room. You may think you can socialize outside of your houses but you will soon find secondary school, or in your case, Usher Steve Adams, 'high school'" She said with air quotes to the tall kid wearing sunglasses, a dodgers hat, while eating a burger with a bald eagle on his arm and for some reason wore robes decorated in stars and bars before continuing "will be a hotbed of ingroups and outgroups and your ass will be kicked if you even think of breaking the status quo"

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noblish history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards, as well as some majorly shit witches and wizards but mostly mediocre nobodies who will have dead-end jobs, families and die. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points and the ire of your classmates, while any rulebreaking will lose house points but earn their respect. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, an empty gesture. I hope you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours, though I know most of you will be detriments"

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was entirely pulled over his head, and on Ron's vomit covered robes as he was punching Neville. Harry pointedly motioned this act of bullying trying to get someone to do something. "I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly." Thinking she didn't have to deal with either of them since they wouldn't be in her house. She left the chamber muttering how much she hates kids. Harry swallowed. "How exactly do they sort us into houses?" he asked aloud hoping to get away from Ron. "Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."

No one was talking much except Hermione Granger, who was whispering very fast about all the spells she'd learned and wondering which one she'd need. Harry tried hard not to listen to her. He kept his eyes fixed on the door. Any second now, Professor McGonagall would come back and lead him to his next 7 years. Then something happened that made him jump about a foot in the air, several people behind him screamed and not because Ron's pants dropped.

He gasped. So did the people around him. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They were bickering like a couple who ran out of things to talk about. What looked like a fat little monk was saying: "Look you can't just say spoiler alert after you ruined the twist, it's a dick move"

"My dear Friar Fuck-wit, the movie is over 15 years old, its common knowledge there has to be a limit if I want to scream Bruce Willis is a gh - I say, what are you all doing here?"

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years. Nobody answered, but they all screamed and started looking for a way out. "New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. "About to get Sorted, I suppose?"

No one tried to answer as they were all gathered at the door trying to pry it open

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old house, you know. "

"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."

Feeling oddly as though his legs had turned to lead, Harry got into line behind a boy with sandy hair, and much to his chagrin Ron behind him, and they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

Harry had never even imagined such a strange and splendid place. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting some jumping and swearing when the hot wax hit them. Though one guy, if the removed shirt and screams of pleasure were any indication, seemed to really like it. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Harry looked up and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. He heard Hermione whisper, "Its bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History."

She would have normally been right but due to a recent shot put competition between Hagrid and well just Hagrid the roof was now away for repairs.

Harry quickly looked down again as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth and the hat began to sing:

Now, this is a story all about how

My life got flipped-turned upside down

And I'd like to take a minute

Just sit right there

I'll tell you how I became the prince of a town called Bel Air

Harry glanced around to see if anyone else was hearing this, but everyone just seemed to be enjoying the music, especially Usher. Shrugging it off he decided to watch the hat finish.

I pulled up to the house about seven or eight

And I yelled to the cabbie 'Yo homes smell ya later'

I looked at my kingdom

I was finally there

To sit on my throne as the Prince of Bel Air.

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to the four tables and then became quite still again. "So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron whispered to Harry. "I'll kill Fred, he was going on about me not going at all." Harry glared weakly. "Why are you still talking to me?"

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment. "When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, then fell to the floor. Ron laughed as he had tripped her. After having the cut on her head treated she put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. After a moment's pause "Yeah Cindy does seem like a bitch, HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Harry saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her, and Hannah trying to ignore him.

"Adams, Usher Steve" bolstered by the music of Boston he strode forward and the hat was gently placed on his head. Moments later the hat called "HUFFLEPUFF!" to the cheers he fist bumped the hat, somehow, and shimmie shaked his way over to the table. That guy's awesome, was the collective thoughts of the staff, students and author.

"Bones, Susan!" "No Cindy did not just say that to her, oh HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah. "Boot, Terry!"

"Yeah I hope season 3 will be better too 'the other sister' my ass. RAVENCLAW!" The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them. The rest of the hall simply yelled "NERDS!"

"Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw too, but "Brown, Lavender" became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Harry could see Ron's twin brothers catcalling. He thought that was inappropriate because she is 11.

"Bulstrode, Millicent" then became a Slytherin. Perhaps it was Harry's imagination, after all he'd heard about Slytherin, but he thought they looked like an unpleasant lot. He then took a couple of seconds to shake that thought off, that wasn't him he didn't make judgments like that.

He was starting to feel definitely sick now. He remembered being picked for teams during P.E. at his old school. He had always been last to be chosen, not because he was no good, but because no one wanted Dudley to think they liked him. A lot of people liked him he got more valentines cards from boys than all the girls and got more from the girls than all the boys. The ones from the Janitor were just plain wrong though. He was a lonely man.

Dudley got all the chocolate you could not keep it from him, not just Harry's either everybody's chocolate had to be offered up to the blonde bottomless pit.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!" "No I don't get it either whats his appeal? HUFFLEPUFF!"

Sometimes, Harry noticed, the hat shouted out the house at once, but at others it took a little while to decide. "Finnigan, Seamus," the sandy-haired boy next to Harry in the line, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.

"Granger, Hermione!" Hermione almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head, it was only a left hook from Harry that stopped her from being tripped by Ron. "Well have it your way don't say I didn't warn you, GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat. Ron groaned, the punch from Harry hurt his superbowl ring wounds. A horrible thought struck Harry, as horrible thoughts always do when you're near Ron. What if he didn't get into Hufflepuff? What if he got stuck with Ron?

When Neville Longbottom, the boy who kept losing his toad, was called, he fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with Neville. When it finally shouted, "Mousse and twist trust me it works GRYFFINDOR," Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to "MacDougal, Morag. "

Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called and got his wish at once: the hat had barely been on his head more than a couple of seconds when it screamed, "My word you are a prick, he was right why the hell were you acting like a mob boss? SLYTHERIN!"

Malfoy went to join his friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with himself. No one was sure why he seemed so please with himself it was just a dorm room choice and he didn't do anything towards it.

There weren't many people left now. "Moon", "Nott", "Parkinson", then a pair of twin girls, "Patil" and "Patil", then "Perks, Sally-Anne", and then, at last.

"Potter, Harry!" As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

"Potter, did she say? I wasn't listening stayed up last night watching box sets"

"The Harry Potter? God he's hot" "He's 11 Billy that's weird." The last thing Harry saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. Next second he was looking at the black inside of the hat. He waited. "Hmm," said a small voice in his ear. "Ha didn't see that coming Kevin Spacey was Keyser Soze, so where shall I put you?" Harry gripped the edges of the stool and thought, Hufflepuff please. "Yeah that's where everyone cool wants to go." said the small voice. "Good choice well then. Hang on getting a whatszapp here, huh one second" Harry heard what sounded like a calling tone "Yeah I'm sorting him now, uh huh, but Uncle Phil, okay fine. Sorry Mr. Potter I've been overruled on this one for what it's worth I'm sorry. GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry heard the hat shout the entire conversation to the hall. He took off the hat and walked sulking toward the Gryffindor table. He was so annoyed that he was getting the loudest cheer yet while (Hufflepuff booed the hat) for going to his last choice. Percy the Prefect got up and tried to shake his hand Harry rebuffed him with a testy "Don't touch me", while the Weasley twins yelled, "We got Potter! Losers!" causing a fist fight to break out between stupider members of the houses. Harry sat down opposite the ghost in the ruff he'd seen earlier. The ghost patted his arm, giving Harry the sudden, horrible feeling his soul was being torn from his body. To which he screamed.

He could see the High Table properly now. At the end nearest him sat Hagrid, who caught his eye and gave him the thumbs up. Harry grimaced back and flipped him the bird still pissed at the man. And there, in the center of the High Table, in a large gold chair, sat Albus Dumbledore. Harry recognized him at once from the card he'd gotten out of the Chocolate Frog on the train. Dumbledore's silver hair was the only thing in the hall that shone as brightly as the ghosts, Harry thought someone should have told him his hair was on fire. Harry spotted Professor Quirrell too, the nervous young man from the Leaky Cauldron. He was looking very peculiar arguing with his large purple turban.

And now there were only a few people left to be sorted. Then it was Ron's turn. Harry crossed his fingers under the table hoping he would be sent elsewhere and a second later the hat had screamed and vomited fluff all over the hall, "OH LORD OH LORD I MUST END HIM NOW" This was a new one for the staff at Hogwarts in over several hundred years the hat has never tried to kill a student. It was when Ron had about lost consciousness the staff managed to prise the hat off him. "I HAVE TO END HIM NO COURT WILL CONVICT HIM!".

The hat was forcibly taken to another room to calm down, Dumbledore simply asked where he would like to go. Every table pointed to another one and Harry hid under the table. Harry swore loudly with the rest as Ron collapsed into the chair next to him.

"Looks like we can't escape you Ron, fan-fucking-tastict," said Percy Weasley pompously as "Zabini, Blaise," was made a Slytherin. Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the stool away. Harry looked down at his empty gold plate. He had only just realized how hungry he was, Ron had eaten all of his food.

Albus Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there, but he was fairly drunk.

"Welcome," he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Try the churros! Thank you!" He sat back down. Everybody clapped politely. Harry didn't know whether to laugh or not. "Is he mad?" he asked Percy uncertainly. "Mad?" said Percy airily. "He's a fucking nutcase! Best wizard in the world too!" Dumbledore had stood back up after being reminded about the yearly raffle.

After the raffle Harry's mouth fell open. The dishes in front of him were now piled with food. He had never seen so many things he liked to eat on one table: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, a pig on a spit.

The Dursleys had never exactly starved Harry, but he'd never been allowed to eat as much as he liked. Dudley had always taken anything that Harry really wanted, even if It made him sick. Harry often lied about what he wanted to eat to see if Dudley was that stupid. Dudley was that stupid and Harry received several months grounding for tricking Dudley into eating half the sofa. Harry piled his plate with a bit of everything and began to eat. It was all okay he guessed.

"That does look good," said the ghost in the ruff sadly, watching Harry cut up his steak. "Please don't start a conversation I'm trying to enjoy this steak."

"I haven't eaten for nearly five hundred years," said the ghost. "I don't need to, of course, but one does miss it. I don't think I've introduced myself? Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower." "I didn't ask" Said Harry continuing his meal, trying to enjoy his steak, the chef clearly doesn't know how to cook a rare steak properly.

"I know who you are!" said Ron suddenly food spitting over several people. "My brothers told me about you. You're Nearly Headless Nick! Do the thing!". "I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy " the ghost began stiffly, but sandy-haired Seamus Finnigan interrupted. "Nearly Headless? How can you be nearly headless?" Sir Nicholas looked extremely pissed, as if their little chat wasn't going at all the way he wanted. "Like this," he said irritably. He seized his left ear and pulled. His whole head swung off his neck and fell on his shoulder as if it was on a hinge. Someone had obviously tried to behead him, but not done it properly. Looking pleased at the students vomiting over the gore, Nearly Headless Nick flipped his head back on top of his neck, coughed, and said, "So new Gryffindors! I hope you're going to help us win the house championship this year? Gryffindors have never actually won, we suck royally. Slytherins had the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron's becoming almost unbearable, he's the Slytherin ghost."

Harry looked over at the Slytherin table and saw a horrible ghost there, with blank staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood. He was flying around in his biplane shooting at a beagle. "How did he get the biplane?" asked Seamus with great interest as the Baron soared overhead. "I've never asked" said Nearly Headless Nick delicately. When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment later the desserts appeared. Blocks of ice cream in every flavor you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate eclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, Jell-O, rice pudding. As Harry helped himself to a treacle tart (he would never be allowed to do it at home trying to keep his figure and all but he could cheat today), the talk turned to their families.

"I'm half-and-half," said Seamus. "Me dad's a Muggle. Mom didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him." The others laughed. Harry wondered why it was a nasty surprise finding out the love of your life could bend the rules of nature seemed like a good thing. Especially in the bedroom, think about it go on I'll wait I thought about it while writing this.

"My gran brought me up and she's a witch," said Neville, "but the family thought I was all-Muggle for ages. My Great Uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off my guard and force some magic out of me he pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier with a cinderblock tied to my ankles, I nearly drowned, but nothing happened until I was eight. Great Uncle Algie came round for dinner, and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by the ankles when my Great Auntie Enid offered him a handy jay and he let go as he usually does when holding me out a window. But I bounced all the way down the garden and into the road where I was repeatedly run over. They were all really pissed, Gran was crying, she thought I died. It was touch and go for a while. And you should have seen their faces when I got in here they thought I may not be magic enough to come, but that didn't matter anyways since the tuition cheque cleared. Great Uncle Algie was so pleased he only held my head under the water for 4 minutes that day."

"Your uncle sounds like a dick Neville" Harry chipped in. Ron thought Neville's uncle sounded awesome. On Harry's other side, Percy Weasley and Hermione were talking about lessons ("I do hope they start right away, there's so much to learn, I'm particularly interested in Transfiguration, you know, turning something into something else, of course, it's supposed to be very difficult"; " Will you stop, why don't you talk to people your own age?").

Harry, who was starting to feel warm and sleepy, looked up at the High Table again. Hagrid was still drinking deeply from his goblet, while other professors cheered him on. Professor McGonagall was trying to resuscitate Professor Dumbledore. Professor Quirrell, in his absurd turban which he kept slipping chicken wings, was talking to a teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin. It happened very suddenly. The hook-nosed teacher looked past Quirrell's turban straight into Harry's eyes and flipped him the 'V' and a sharp, hot pain shot across the scar on Harry's forehead. "Bastard!" Harry clapped a hand to his head. "What is it?" asked Percy. "Ron just put out a lit match on my scar."

The pain had gone as quickly as it had come. Harder to shake off was the feeling Harry had gotten from the teacher's look a feeling that he didn't like Harry at all, though the fact he was mouthing the word 'fuck you' might have added to that suspicion.

"Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?" he asked Percy, using his distraction to punch Ron in the face for the match.

"Oh, Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn't want to everyone knows he would rather be in his underwear drinking. Knows a lot about drinking in his pants Snape ." Harry watched Snape for a while, but Snape didn't look at him again.

At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent. "Ahem just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well." Dumbledore turned and pointed directly at the Weasley twins. He then looked confused "Wasn't there three of you?". The pairs mood dropped, Dumbledore shrugged and continued.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should ever be used between classes in the corridors and he hates you all, especially you Tony. I would like to inform the first years who have diaries that Mr. Filch will be reading them at some point. Ah look, there he goes. What a man." Dumbledore motioned the back of the hall where the schools caretaker was reading a glittery pink diary and laughing. A Ravenclaw first year looked nervous.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should reevaluate their lives. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out-of-bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Harry laughed, but he was one of the few who did. "He's not serious?" he muttered to Percy. "Sadly yes" said Percy, frowning at Dumbledore. "It's odd though he normally doesn't tell us where the hidden room of death is. One year it was hidden inside the Slytherin shower room. Likes to keep us on our toes apparently."

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. Harry noticed that the other teachers' smiles had dropped and then exchanged with confusion. "Albus we don't have a school song" McGonagall stated. Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words.

I never meant to be so bad to you

One thing I said that I would never do

A look from you and I would fall from grace

And that would wipe this smile right from my face

Hagrid perked up and leaned over to the professor next to him "Is this Asia?" He asked. Professor Sarcasmo shook his head "Hagrid we are in Europe you cretin." Dumbledore conducted the last few lines with his wand as his beaten colleague soared over the tables crashing into the suits of armor at the back of the hall. "Ah, music," he said as a beach ball bounced off his head. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you go"

The Gryffindor first years followed Percy through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. Harry's legs were like lead again, but only because he was so tired and full of food. He was too sleepy even to be surprised that the people in the portraits along the corridors whispered and pointed as they passed, or that twice Percy led them through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries as though he had no idea where he was going. They climbed more staircases, yawning and dragging their feet, and Harry was just wondering how much farther they had to go when they came to a sudden halt.

A bundle of chainsaws was floating in midair ahead of them, and as Percy took a step toward them they started throwing themselves at him. "Shit its Peeves" Percy yelled to the first years as he pushed his way past them. "Peeves?" someone chirped as they watched Percy's rapidly shrinking form. "A poltergeist and major asshole."

A loud, rude sound, like the air being let out of a balloon, answered. "Do you think we should run?" someone said in the confused group. There was a pop, and a little man with wicked, dark eyes and a wide mouth appeared, floating cross-legged in the air, clutching the chainsaws. "Oooooooh!" he said, with an evil cackle. "Freshmen. What fun!"

"Yeah we are so dead" Harry said attempting to hide behind Ron. He swooped suddenly at them. They all ducked and screamed.

Peeves managed to grab one of the first years who wasn't so quick and let out a cackle. They heard him zooming away with a child screaming, rattling coats of armor as he passed.

"Well somebody's parents are getting a letter. You want to watch out for Peeves," said Percy, as he reappeared and they set off again. "Let's hope whoever Peeves grabbed gets away with only a light paddling." They left hearing the dim cry of an anal probe.

At the end of the corridor hung a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.

"Password?" she said. "Hollaback Girl" said Percy, and the portrait swung forward catching him on the chin sending him rolling down the hall. They all scrambled through the hole in the wall and found themselves in the Gryffindor common room, a cozy, round room with a single sofa and one beanbag.

Percy still dazed directed the girls through one door to their dormitory and the boys through another. At the top of a spiral staircase; they were obviously in one of the towers, they found their beds at last: five four-posters hung with deep red, velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up and true to Dumbledore's word their diaries were missing. Too tired to talk much, they pulled on their pajamas and fell into bed. "Great food, isn't it?" Ron muttered to Harry through the hangings. "Get off, Scabbers! He's chewing my face." Harry was going to ask Ron if he'd finally go away but he fell asleep almost at once.

Perhaps Harry had eaten a bit too much, because he had a very strange dream. He was fully tied to a chair while a woman threatened him with a harpoon gun, suddenly he was on stage performing and the potions professor was a judge. It was when he was given a 10 and had the hook nosed mans number slipped into his dress that he woke in a cold sweat. He rolled over and fell asleep again, and when he woke next day, he didn't want to remember the dream at all.

**A.N. Well done you made it so review comment etc I am getting desperately lonely and join us next week when Harry meets his greatest foe yet; A subpar educator who doesnt like him.**


	8. So this school kinda sucks huh

**_A.N. Hey you. You're looking good doing something different with you hair? Well it looks amazing._**

**_Anyways today Harry faces his greatest foe a subpar educator enjoy and kisses._**

Chapter 8

"There, look."

"Where?"

"Here, doesn't it look like a mole to you? Hey look at that kid run from the beast with the red hair."

"Wearing the glasses?"

"Did you see his face? Beautiful."

"Did you see his scar? Think we should tell the village elders?"

Whispers followed Harry from the moment he left his dormitory the next day. People lining up outside classrooms stood on tiptoe to get a look at him which was weird because didn't they have their classes to teach? some doubled back to pass him in the corridors again, staring normally to the point where they would fall down stairs. Harry wished they wouldn't, because he was trying to concentrate on getting rid of Ron.

There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, broken ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely, or tickled their knob in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It was also very hard to remember where anything was, because it all seemed to move around a lot. The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other, and Harry was sure the suits of armor could move and was proven right when he was chased for about an hour. Harry did find it odd that the bathrooms had plumbling because, you know fucking wizards, he did think the magic mirrors were pointless what was the point in seeing other people staring at you when doing your hair. What Harry was unaware of is that there were no magic mirrors and the caretaker had been far too lazy to fix the walls in the bathrooms.

The ghosts didn't help, either. It was always a nasty shock when one of them glided suddenly through a door you were trying to open mostly on purpose. Nearly Headless Nick was always happy to point new Gryffindors in the right direction when he was sober, but Peeves the Poltergeist would set out to ruin your fucking day if you met him. He would drop wastepaper baskets on your head, pull rugs from under your feet, pelt you with bricks, or sneak up behind you, smash you over the head with a pipe then leave it in someones trunk as planted evidence.

Some have rumoured that even worse than Peeves, was the caretaker, Argus Filch. Harry liked him as Ron managed to get on the wrong side of him on his very first morning. Filch found himself and his bed on fire. He wouldn't believe that it was an accident. Mostly because it wasnt.

Filch owned a cat called Mrs. Norris, a scrawny, dust-colored creature with bulging, lamp like eyes just like Filch's. She patrolled the corridors alone with only a combat knife. Break a rule in front of her and she'd whisk off for Filch, who'd appear, wheezing, two seconds later and then pass out. Filch is not a healthy man, his diet is mostly beer, pork and regret. Filch knew the secret passageways of the school better than anyone and could pop up as suddenly as any of the ghosts. The students all loved him, and it was the dearest ambition of many to give him and Mrs. Norris a beer.

And then, once you had managed to find them, there were the classes themselves. There was a lot less to magic, as Harry quickly found out, than waving your wand and saying a few funny words. Most of it wasnt even magic.

They had to study the night skies through their telescopes every Wednesday at midnight and learn the names of different stars and the movements of the planets this was basic astronomy. When Harry raised his hand to ask what this had to do with magic or how this would get them a job he got stared at blankly until he lowered his hand. Three times a week they went out to the greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology, with a dumpy little witch called Professor Sprout, where they learned how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi, and found out what they were used for. This was also not magic it was basic gardening. Easily the most boring class was History of Magic, which was the only one taught by a ghost. Professor Binns had been very old when he had fallen asleep in front of the staff room fire and the other staff thought it kinder to put him out of his (and mostly their) misery. So imagine their surprise when his ghost rose through the pillow they had pressed over his head then went off to teach, they couldn't get rid of him officially because he had tenure now even death would not rid them of him. Binns droned on and on while they scribbled down names and dates, and got his ex wives and when they divorced him mixed up.

Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a miniscule wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. At the start of their first class he took the roll call, and when he reached Harry's name he gave an excited squeak and toppled out of sight causing the class to laugh especially when the pile of books fell on him. No one helped him for forty minutes.

Professor McGonagall was again different. Harry had been quite right to think she wasn't a teacher to cross. Strict and clever, she gave them a talking-to the moment they sat down in her first class. "Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she warned while cracking her knuckles to scare the shit out of these kids. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned." As if to prove this point a 6th Year popped his head in the door and asked if he would be allowed to come back to class. McGonagall refused and he would forever lament the day he threw that paper plane in her class 5 years ago.

Then she changed her desk into a pig, which ran forward and bit Seamus, who in response to the unprovoked hog assault threw a punch. McGonagall turned the pig back again before it got hit. They were all very impressed and couldn't wait to get started except for Seamus who was swearing while cradling his broken fist, but soon realized they weren't going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time. After taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle. By the end of the lesson, only Seamus and Ron had failed to make any difference to their matches but only one was due to shattered bones.

The class everyone had really been looking forward to was Professor Sarcasmo's but after that was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell's lessons turned out to be shit. His classroom smelled strongly of stale booze, which everyone said was to ward off nightmares of when he was mugged for his Nikes in London. His turban, he told them, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but they weren't sure they believed this story. For one thing, when Seamus Finnigan asked eagerly to hear how Quirrell had fought off the zombie, Quirrell went silent and his turban burst out laughing and calling him a loser. Someone asked how to actually kill a zombie and once again it was Quirrell's turban who answered. "Kick it in the nuts."

"What if it doesn't have nuts?"

"Then kick it in the vagina, still works." It was at this point a student raised their hand "Whats a vagina?" There was silence then the turban burst out laughing "Good luck answering Quirrell, not like you've ever seen one hahaha" Quirrell tried to argue but he couldnt and Harry took this moment to address the class "Anyone else think the whole turban talking thing is weird? ANYONE AT ALL? I FEEL LIKE IM TAKING CRAZY PILLS."

Quirrell only got one letter of complaint and that was from the orthodox christian family who were angry about the word vagina and warned jesus would not forgive him. Other than being presumptuous (I mean they weren't jesus even if you think you know them well you can't always know what they will say) it didn't matter to Quirrell he is a Satanist anyways.

Harry was very relieved to find out that he wasn't miles behind everyone else if anything he was a good amount ahead. People born into wizarding families didn't have much of a head start, none of them knew how to read or write. "What have we got today?" Harry asked Neville as he buttered his toast, his hair now looking just amazing. "Double Potions with the Slytherins," said Neville. "Snape's Head of Slytherin House. My gran says he is a giant asshole and a virgin."

Just then, the mail arrived. Harry had gotten used to this by now, but it had given him a bit of a shock on the first morning, when about a hundred owls had suddenly streamed into the Great Hall during breakfast, circling the tables until they saw their owners, and dropping letters and packages on their laps while being shot at by Hagrid.

Hedwig hadn't brought Harry anything so far. She sometimes flew in to nibble his ear and have a bit of toast and stare down any perceived competition before going off to sleep in the owlery with the other school owls, all animals seemed overly affectionate with Harry. This morning, however, she fluttered down between the marmalade and the sugar bowl and dropped a note on Harry's plate ruining his fried breakfast. Harry tore it open at once. It said, in a very untidy scrawl:

Dear Harri,

Prolli da beer buh u ar mah bes fren. Ah no u ha fri afernoon off pop oer. Dei ha some pressels *ineligible* 10 SICKLES! GIT ORRA HERE.

Hagrid

Harry sighed and shook his head he probably should go see Hagrid he was taking the cold shoulder pretty hard. It was lucky that Harry had sobering up Hagrid to look forward to, because the Potions lesson turned out to be the worst thing that had happened to him so far.

Worse than the day he put on the dress his aunt snuck into his case while half asleep. He was lucky he had the wig too. He managed to convince the entire school he was a temporary exchange student here for a day. There would be many a broken heart that night.

At the start-of-term banquet, Harry had gotten the idea that Professor Snape disliked him. By the end of the first Potions lesson, he knew he'd been wrong. Snape didn't just dislike everything and everyone he hated the world.

Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder here than up in the main castle, and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars and the gimp masks all around the walls. Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roll call, and like Flitwick, he paused at Harry's name.

"Ah, Yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new celebrity." Draco Malfoy sniggered behind his hands. Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were black like Hagrid's, but they had none of Hagrid's warmth and half his drunkness. They were cold and empty and made you think of dark tunnels.

"Kick! Punch! It's all in the mind." he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "If you wanna test me, I'm sure you'll find the things I'll teach ya is sure to beat ya but nevertheless you'll get a lesson from teacher now."

More silence followed this little speech. People were unsure to make of it. One guy knew Snape had been spending too much time playing Pararapa the Rapper.

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Hermione's hand had shot into the air and Harry looked confused. "A what and a what, sir?" said Harry. Snape's lips curled into a sneer. "Tut, tut fame clearly isn't everything."

"Fame doesn't always have to do with intelligence sir. I mean I'm famous because a mass murderer died after killing my parents." He ignored Hermione's hand and Harrys valid response.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?" Hermione stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go without her leaving her seat, but Harry didn't have the faintest idea what a bezoar was. "I don't know, is that a Pokémon? I got a few cards but I don't think bezoar is a real one sir." "Wanna do swaps Harry?" "After class he's looking pissed" Snape sneered he hates it when people bring up Pokémon cards. They never have Charizard. Little did he know Harry actually did have Charizard.

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, Potter?" Harry forced himself to keep looking straight into those cold eyes. "I did sir but I'm eleven and its a school book. I'm only human." Snape was still pissed about the Pokémon card thing.

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling. Harry made a farting noise and shrugged his shoulders in an over the top way.

"I frankly have no clue," said Harry "I think Hermione needs to go to the toilet Sir." he said noticing the girl hopping up and down. Snape, however, was not pleased.

"Sit down," he snapped at Hermione. "For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?" Harry raised his hand "Is it going to be on the test?"

There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment while Snape glared at Harry not really answering his question. Over the noise, Snape said, "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your bullshit, Potter." "Okay" Harry said before rummaging in his bag adding a quiet "asshole." "What was that?" "I said asphodel sir" Snape narrowed his eyes. Well Played he thought.

Things didn't improve for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. Snape put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except Crabbe, whom he seemed to like. He was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Crabbes fist had knocked out one of Rons rotten teeth after finding him going through his wallet when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus's cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. Within seconds, the class was standing on their stools while Neville, who had been forcibly pushed in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in agony as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms, legs and being.

"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville screamed "Everything feels like BURNING!" as angry red boils popped up all over his body. "Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Seamus. Then he rounded on Harry and Ron, who had worked next to Neville. "Potter why didn't you tell him not to add the quills?"

This was so unfair that Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Ron kicked him behind their cauldron. "Don't snitch on me Potter," he muttered. Harry narrowed his eyes "Fuck you Ron" Harry then turned to Snape "Sir I didn't see what he was doing because I was doing both our work but I saw Ron tossing all sorts or shit into the cauldron before hand". Snape stared before continuing "Snitching on your friends Potter" "HES NOT MY FRIEND!" "Thats another point you lost."

As they climbed the steps out of the dungeon an hour later, Harry's mind was racing and his spirits were low. He'd lost three points for Gryffindor in his very first week, two were from Snape and the last was from McGonagall for forging paperwork about an exchange student.

"Cheer up," said Ron, "Snape's always taking points off Fred and George. Can I come and meet Hagrid with you?" "No."

At five to three Harry left the castle and made his way across the grounds. Hagrid lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the forbidden forest. A crossbow, a dirty old sofa covered in empty beer cans, a burned out car and a broken fridge were outside the front door.

When Harry knocked they heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks. Then Hagrid's voice rang out, saying, "Fang no, not the custard pie. AAARGH" Hagrid's big, hairy custard cream covered face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door open.

"Hang on," he said wiping his face with one hand. He let them in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous black boarhound. There was only one room inside. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire, and in the corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt over it.

"Make yourselves at home," said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who bounded straight at Ron and started trying to bite his face and neck. Like Hagrid, Ron clearly ignored what Harry says.

"I told him no, but apparently he followed me" Harry told Hagrid, who was pouring boiling water into a large teapot and putting rock cakes on a plate. "Another Weasley, eh?" said Hagrid, glancing at Ron's bite wounds. "I spent half me life chasing yer triplet brothers away from the forest."

The rock cakes were shapeless lumps with raisins that almost broke his teeth, but Harry didn't pretend to be enjoying them as he told Hagrid all about their first lessons. Fang had managed to dig his teeth into Rons neck and started to drag him from the shack. Harry was completely horrified to hear Hagrid call Filch "that old git."

"An' as fer that cat, Mrs. Norris, every time I go up ter the school, she follows me everywhere. Can't get rid of her." The reason for this is simple every time Hagrid goes to bed Filch sneaks into his shack and puts pounds of fish into his pants. Harry told Hagrid about Snape's lesson. Hagrid told Harry not to worry about it, that Snape liked hardly any of the students.

"But he seemed to really hate me." "Ha ha it's not you he hates." said Hagrid. "Its cause he couldn't fuc.. Ahem never mind" Harry couldn't help thinking that Hagrid was about to say something highly innapropiate in front of an eleven year old as he didn't quite meet his eyes when he said that.

"How's yer brother Eric?" Hagrid asked the bleeding Ron punching his dog. "Haven't seen him this year." Harry wondered if Hagrid had changed the subject on purpose. While Ron told Hagrid all about Eric's funeral and asked him to get Fang off his neck, Harry picked up a piece of paper that was lying on the table under the tea cozy. It was a cutting from the Daily Prophet:

GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST

Investigations continue into the pair of break-ins at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of one Large smelly man and one moron. Gringotts goblins today insisted that someone is getting their knees broken. Both thieves had in fact broke into the same vault.

"Listen Steve is taking it really hard," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon "He is determined to find these guys and introduce them to 'The Enforcer'" The picture showed Security Goblin Steve introducing the Enforcer to a reporters leg.

Harry was unaware it was even possible for a leg to be broken clean off with a pipe but moving pictures changed his mind.

"Hagrid!" said Harry, "That goblin looks like he's going to kick your ass!" There was no doubt about it, Hagrid definitely didn't meet Harry's eyes this time. He grunted and offered him another rock cake. Harry read the story again. The vault that was searched had in fact been looted earlier that same day. Hagrid had robbed vault seven hundred and thirteen, whatever it was Harry knew he didn't really care.

_**A.N. As always thanks for reading leave a review I crave attention next time some shit goes down probably. sorry a bit distracted debating about how much I should drink tonight alot or just excessively.**_


	9. this school is trying to kill us all

_**A.N. Hey guys how you doing I'm so glad you could join us today Harry gets involved in some school yard shit and I guess that's it. Sorry a bit out of it just moved from a house to a box room. **_

Chapter 9

Harry had never believed he would meet a boy he hated more than Dudley, but that was before he met Ron Weasley with Draco Malfoy being a distant second that was because first-year Gryffindors only had Potions with the Slytherins, so he didn't have to put up with Malfoy much. Or at least, they didn't until they spotted a notice pinned up in the Gryffindor common room that made most them all scream in terror. Flying lessons would be starting on Thursday and Gryffindor and Slytherin would be learning together.

"Weird," said Harry. "I wonder why everyone is acting batshit over this?" He had looked forward to learning to fly because everything else sucked. "You'll make a fool of yourself," Ron yelled at Neville. "Anyway, Malfoy's always going on about how good he is at Quidditch, but I bet that's all talk." Ron said to Harry who was pointedly ignoring him.

Malfoy certainly did talk about flying and proper hair care a lot. He complained loudly about first years never getting on the house Quidditch teams and told long, boastful stories that always seemed to end with him narrowly escaping a bad hair day because his father managed to find the right hair product. He wasn't the only one, though: the way Seamus Finnigan told it, he'd spent most of his childhood avoiding his mothers broomstick. Even Ron would tell anyone who'd listen about the time he'd almost got shot after assaulting that officer with Charlie's old broom. Everyone from wizarding families talked about Quidditch constantly and how its the worst. Ron had already had a big argument with Dean Thomas, who shared their dormitory, about who stole from his trunk. Ron couldn't see what the problem was, he stole from people all the time. Harry had later caught Ron pants around his ankles taking a shit on Dean's pillow.

Neville had never been on a broomstick in his life, because his grandmother had never let him near one because he was accident prone also she was of the opinion the only way to travel was magic carpet; sadly they all had punctures. Neville managed to have an extraordinary number of accidents even with both feet on the ground not including the accidents he mysteriously has when Ron is near.

Harry hadn't had a single letter of importance since Hagrid's note and the 5 follow-up notes, he did receive a surprising amount of fanmail something that Malfoy had been quick to notice, of course. Malfoy's eagle owl was always bringing him packages of sweets from home, which he opened gloatingly at the Slytherin table exclaiming how great it was to have parents. The joke was on him his thighs would be huge if he kept this up also Harry sat facing the opposite way during meals making it pointless.

A barn owl brought Neville a small package from his grandmother. He opened it excitedly and showed them a glass ball the size of a large marble seemingly full of white smoke. "It's a Remembrall!" he explained. "Gran knows I forget things, probably because of all the head injuries from my uncle. This tells you if there's something you've forgotten. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red." His face fell, because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet. It was a shame Neville never figured out a Remembrall is a joke item, let's face it from the day you are born you will inevitably forget something.

Neville was trying to remember what he'd forgotten when Draco Malfoy, who was passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the Remembrall out of his hand. Draco had a surprising ability to speedily grab balls in his hand.

Ron jumped to his feet. He was hoping for a reason to fight Malfoy, but Professor McGonagall, who could spot shit going down quicker than any teacher in the school, was there in a flash. "What's going on?"

"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor." Scowling, Malfoy quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table. "Just looking," he said, and he minced away with Crabbe and Goyle behind him. "Ask permission before you fondle someone's balls Mr Malfoy." McGonagall yelled after him before heading back to her seat muttering "little prick."

At three-thirty that afternoon, Harry, and the other Gryffindors hurried down the front steps to the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they gloomily marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.

The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Harry had heard Fred and George Weasley complain about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high (which for reasons they didn't yet understand those particular brooms were very popular with many of the female students). Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk. "Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up. Fuck I am too hungover for this."

Harry glanced down at his broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles. "Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!'"

"UP" everyone shouted. Harry's broom jumped into his hand at once, but it was the only one that did. This caused a look of confusion from Hooch and awe from the other students. "That" She began "That should not happen." She then explained how the 'up' thing is a joke she does every year and never once has a broom ever jumped up.

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. She told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years. Malfoy was extremely annoyed as his greatest joy was riding a long hard piece of wood and this woman tells him his grip was wrong. The nerve of this woman questioning what his father taught him about riding a stiff rod.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle, three, two" But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of the world around him, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips mostly because Ron yelled behind him.

"Ah shit!" she shouted, but Neville shot up like a cartoon dog whose ass was on fire. Harry saw his scared white face with fantastic hair look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and fall. There was a thud and everyone gathered round him. Madam Hooch let out a sigh of relief then heard a nasty crack and Neville letting out a loud scream. His broomstick meanwhile was still rising higher and higher, and started to drift lazily toward the forbidden forest bursting into flames.

Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his. "Broken wrist," Harry heard her mutter. "Weird it sounded like it happened after he was already on the ground, well up you get." She turned to the rest of the class.

"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Hagrid will you watch them?" She looked over at said giant who was laying in a large plastic pool surrounded by empty cans.

Shaking her head she patted Neville on the shoulder "He's not going to do it. Come on, shitstain." Neville, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him. No sooner were they out of earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter. "Did you see his face, the great lump?" None of the other Slytherins joined in as they were all too busy kicking the ever-living shit out of Ron who they saw stomp on Nevilles wrist.

"Shut up, Malfoy, you giant ass" snapped Parvati Patil. "Yeah don't be a prick Draco" said Pansy Parkinson, a hard-faced Slytherin girl who was in the middle of a flying elbow drop.

"Look!" said Malfoy, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him." The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up, it was not lost on everyone how fast his eyes zeroed in on the ball. "Give that here, Malfoy, come on be cool for once" said Harry wearily. Everyone stopped talking to watch, except one Slytherin girl who was beating Rons prone body with a steel bat. Malfoy smiled nastily. "I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find, how about up a tree?"

"Which part of 'be cool' did you not get?" Harry said a little louder, but Malfoy had leapt on his broomstick and taken off. He hadn't been lying, his hair really kept its shape that spray really works. Hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak he called, "Come and get it, Potter!" Harry didn't move "No thanks" he yelled back. "Get back here you moron!" shouted Hermione Granger. "Madam Hooch told us not to move you'll get us all into trouble." Harry started rooting around in his pockets for something to toss at him. Blood was pounding in Malfoys ears, he was severely pissed and being hit in the head with erasers launched by his perceived rival only made it worse. "Stop ignoring my petty insults Potter!" he shouted, and he threw the glass ball as hard as he could and it streaked toward Harry who looked bored.

Unbeknownst to Malfoy since he was old enough to talk he has had objects launched at his head and whether it be Aunt Petunia's empty wine bottles, Dudleys slingshot or Uncle Vernon's boot the same thing happen he would easily catch it or dodge it. He mostly dodged when Dudley launched dog shit.

Harry saw, as though in slow motion, the ball soar towards his face and he stretched out his hand. Without even a single flicker of emotion he caught the Remberall. Silence fell across the entire area most stood in awe and many of the other had something awaken in them they would not fully understand until they have had 'the talk'.

Against his better judgement Harry picked up a small rock and tossed it at Malfoy once again asking him to be cool. Maybe it was the fact he realised he would always be Draco Malfoy, maybe it was the effortless way Harry caught the Remembrall which awakened a strange moistness in him but he floated idly in a daze as the rock hit his face. The class cheered as the blonde ponce fell from the sky into the pool causing Hagrid to raise his sunglasses give Harry a thumbs up then go back to whatever the hell he is doing, which seemed like enjoying the jacuzzi jets. Little did anyone know this pool did not have jacuzzi jets it was all Hagrid.

"HARRY POTTER!"

His heart sank faster than his Uncle in a pool. Professor McGonagall was strolling towards them wearing an apron which said 'kiss the cook'. She had attended the barbeque grill watching the whole thing. Harry trembled. "I hope you have made your peace Mr. Potter" Professor McGonagall spoke in a low and dangerous tone, and her glasses flashed furiously.

"We had this weird feeling when we watched him, Professor"

"Be quiet, Miss Patil"

"Will you get this bitch to stop hitting me?"

"You deserve it, Mr. Weasley. Potter, follow me, now."

Harry caught sight of Malfoy being fished out of what can only be described as 'Hagrid stock' as he left, walking numbly in Professor McGonagall's wake as she strode toward the castle. He was going to be expelled, he just knew it. He wanted to say something to defend himself, but he feared she would kick his ass. Professor McGonagall was sweeping along without even looking at him; he had to jog to keep up.

Up the front steps, up the marble staircase inside, and still his head of house didn't say a word to him. Professor McGonagall stopped outside a classroom. She opened the door and poked her head inside. "Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, could I borrow Wood for a moment?"

"Please you can keep him." Was the reply from Flitwick before another voice yelled "FOOTBAWL" Harry watched an American Football (made in China) bounce off McGonagall's head as she sighed. Wood turned out to barely be a person, a burly fifth-year boy with a side turned baseball cap who came out of Flitwick's class looking confused. "Follow me, you two," said Professor McGonagall, "Naw Naw McGonabro, you gotta bump it first" Wood said holding up and enclosed fist.

Harry remembered Hagrid telling him about this, Wood was a Wizardbro they were normally pretty cool but would act like jerks at keggers and around girls. Harry was also told the wizards of the coast were nice though they normally just gave you cards.

With a heavy sigh McGonagall fistbumped his held out fist and motioned an explosion and they then marched on up the corridor, Wood looking curiously at Harry. "In here." Professor McGonagall pointed them into a classroom that was empty except for Peeves, who was busy swinging a knotted rope while a nude male student sat bound to a bottomless chair.

"Shit its Peeves!" she hissed. Professor McGonagall slowly closed the door and they went down the hall. Then she turned to the two boys."Potter, this is Oliver Wood. I've found you a Seeker. "Wood's expression changed from puzzlement to delight. "You for real-real?"

"Word," said Professor McGonagall crisply. "The boy's got skills plus I caught him knocking the shit out of Malfoy, right Potter?" Harry nodded silently. He didn't have a clue what was going on, but he found that to be the norm lately.

"He caught that thing in his hand as it flew towards his head at several miles per hour," Professor McGonagall told Wood. "Didn't even bat an eyelid. Charlie Weasley couldn't have done it, even if he was sober." Wood was now looking as though all his dreams had come true at once. "Ever seen a game of Quidditch, brah?" he asked excitedly. "Wood's captain of the Gryffindor team," Professor McGonagall explained. "Willingly" She emphasised as though she still couldn't believe it. "I'm still not sure what the fuck Quidditch is." Harry said "Ron told me one team uses a sack of potatoes as a player I'm sure he's full of shit."

"He's just the build for a Seeker, too," said Wood, now walking around Harry and staring at him. "No muscle mass man, we'll have to get him lifting."

"I shall speak to Professor Dumbledore and see if we can't bend the first-year rule. Heaven knows, we need a better team than last year. Flattened in that last match by Slytherin, I couldn't look Severus Snape in the face for weeks. Bastard hired a ringer."

Harry was not aware of it but a head of house gets to make the other heads do a dare if they win the Quidditch cup, since no one wants really to play Quidditch they usually have to use team positions as a punishment. Professor McGonagall peered sternly over her glasses at Harry. "I want to hear you're training hard, Potter, or I may change my mind about expelling you. Mr Malfoy may be a little shit but no one deserves to get dropped in a Hagrid stew." Then she suddenly smiled. "Your father would have been proud," she said. "He was a huge trouble maker himself. He once shoved the entire Ravenclaw dorm into lockers."

"You poor Fucker." It was dinnertime. Harry had just finished telling one of the other Gryffindor first years what had happened when he'd left the grounds with Professor McGonagall. "Seeker?" one said. "But first years never get forced into it you must be the youngest house player in about."

"a century," said Harry, eating with some manners. He felt particularly hungry after Wood forced him to hit the gym. "Wood told me while he was spotting me. I start training next week," said Harry. "Wood wants to keep it a secret, but that sounds stupid since my names already on the roster." Fred and George Weasley now came into the hall, spotted Harry, and hurried over. "I am so sorry about this," said George in a low voice. "Wood told us. We're on the team too Beaters."

"I tell you, we're going to win that Quidditch cup for sure this year," said Fred. "Then we will finally be free. You must be good, Harry, Wood would not stop high fiving people when he told us."

Fred and George had hardly disappeared when someone far less welcome turned up: Ron who was shortly followed by Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. "Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?" The magic carpets still had punctures.

"God what is that smell. Fuck is that you Malfoy jeez take a shower man." said Harry gagging a little. Malfoy had showered; over ten times in fact but no matter how much he scrubbed he would never be clean. "That's it I'm kicking your ass," said Malfoy. "Tonight, Wizard's duel. Wands only no contact. What's the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?"

"No." Said Harry "How would I? You literally just said it yourself 'raised by muggles'. And I'm not going to fight you that's a stupid fucking idea."

"Of course he has," said Ron, wheeling around. "I'm his second, who's yours?" Malfoy looked at Crabbe and Goyle, sizing them up and probably checking them out. "Crabbe," he said. "Midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked." When Malfoy had gone, Ron and Harry looked at each other. "What do you think you are doing? I didn't want to fight him." said Harry. "And what do you mean, you're my second?"

"Well, a second's there to take over if you die," said Ron casually, getting started on his sixth helping. Catching the look on Harry's face, he added quickly, "But people only die in proper duels, you know, with real wizards. The most you and Malfoy'll be able to do is send sparks at each other. Neither of you knows enough magic to do any real damage. I bet he expected you to refuse, anyway."

"Why won't you leave me alone?"

"Excuse me." They both looked up. It was Hermione Granger. "Can't a person eat in peace in this place?" said Ron. "Not with you around Ron." Hermione ignored him and spoke to Harry. "I couldn't help overhearing what you and Malfoy were saying"

"Nosy bitch," Ron yelled. "and you mustn't go wandering around the school at night, think of the points you'll lose Gryffindor if you're caught, and you're bound to be. It's really very selfish of you."

"What conversation were you listening to? I'm not going to fight him. He threatened me then this prick," said Harry motioning Ron. "Volunteered me into a fight I don't want and will not be attending."

"Good-bye, bitch" said Ron throwing cutlery.

It wasn't what you'd call the perfect end to the day, Harry thinking about the fight that erupted as one of the thrown forks impaled a Hufflepuff student as he lay awake later listening to Dean and Seamus falling asleep they must have been really good friends to sleep in the same bed (Neville wasn't back from the hospital wing). Ron had spent all evening giving him advice such as "If he tries to curse you, you'd better dodge it, because I can't remember how to block them." Harry wondered why he wouldn't just go away. Harry was just about dozing off when he heard.

"Half-past eleven," Ron whispered as he attempted to shake Harry awake, "we'd better go." Harry groaned and rolled over "Piss off Ron."

Harry was having a nice dream of normal classes, hanging with real friends and not a red-headed monster enjoying special time with those special someones and looking like Fabio. Then just outside of his consciousness he heard voices

"I can't believe you're going to do this, Harry." It was the voice of Hermione Granger. "You! Go fucking die!" That one was Ron. "I almost told your brother," Hermione snapped, "Percy he's a prefect, he'd put a stop to this." Harry opened his eyes and everything seemed darker, was he wearing sunglasses? Where was he? Why was he moving while sat down? Yeah okay he was in a wheelchair and he was definitely not in his bed or even the Gryffindor common room.

FUCK.

"Don't you care about Gryffindor, do you only care about yourselves, I don't want Slytherin to win the house cup, and you'll lose all the points I got from Professor McGonagall for knowing about Switching Spells." Harry stood up tossing the sunglasses at a red blob he assumed was Ron "Shut up! I'm going back to bed this is stupid. Fuck you Ron, seriously who does whatever the fuck this is. Hermione please guide me back I cannot see a damn thing." He asked holding up his arm.

"You just remember what I said when you're on the train home tomorrow, you're so" she taunted at Ron cutting off half way. "The hand holding necessary Hermione?"

But what Ron was, they didn't find out. Hermione had turned to the portrait of the Fat Lady to get back inside and found herself facing an empty painting while Harry couldn't see anything. The Fat Lady had gone on a nighttime visit leaving Hermione and Harry locked out of Gryffindor tower. "Now what are we going to do?" she asked shrilly. "That's your problem," said Ron. "We've got to go, we're going to be late."

"I never agreed to this! Try the password anyways Hermione."

Harry found himself being pulled to the end of the corridor by Hermione, this girl had one hell of a grip. "Do you think we are going to stand out here and wait for Filch to catch us? If he finds all three of us I'll tell him the truth, that I was trying to stop you, and Harry can back me up."

"You've got some nerve" said Ron loudly. "Shut up, Ron!" said Harry sharply. I heard something."

It was a sort of snuffling. "Mrs. Norris?" breathed Ron, squinting through the dark. "I hope so, then Filch can kick your ass." It wasn't Mrs. Norris. It was Mrs. Neville. He lay curled up on the floor, fast asleep, but jerked suddenly awake as they crept nearer. "Thank Thor you found me! I've been out here for hours, I couldn't remember the new password to get in."

"Keep your voice down, Neville. The password's 'Pig snout' but it won't help you now, the Fat Lady's gone off somewhere." "How's your arm?" said Harry looking at a stain on the wall. He couldn't tell that it wasn't Neville. "Fine thank you," said Neville, showing them. "Madam Pomfrey mended it in about a minute. "

"That's good. Wait. Where the hell were you for the past 7 hours?"

Neville's eyes darted to Ron who was mouthing 'squeal and your dead' and he changed the subject. "Don't leave me alone!" said Neville, scrambling to his feet, "I don't want to stay here alone, the Bloody Baron's been past twice already." The Red Baron was in fact being chased by Snoopy as he had kidnapped Fifi.

Ron looked at his stolen watch and then glared furiously at Hermione and Neville. "If either of you get us caught, I'll never rest until I've killed you and made it look like a suicide." Hermione opened her mouth, perhaps to tell Ron exactly where he can shove his opinion, but her attention was quickly drawn away as Harry hissed after walking into a wall.

They sped along corridors filled with moonlight from the high windows. At every turn Harry asked why they were going away from the Gryffindor common room and if the rubbing using the thumb was necessary (it was very much so). They sped up a staircase to the third floor and tiptoed toward the trophy room except Harry who walked into the door frame.

Malfoy and Crabbe weren't there yet. The crystal trophy cases glimmered where the moonlight caught them. Cups, shields, plates, and statues glittered in the darkness. They edged along the walls, keeping their eyes on the doors at either end of the room. Harry took out his wand in case Ron tried anything funny. The minutes crept by.

"He's late, maybe he's pussied out," Ron whispered. Then a noise in the next room made them jump. Harry had only just raised his wand when they heard someone slurred speech and distinct sound of a cowbell; it wasn't Malfoy.

"Come on baby, don't fear the reaper. Baby take my hand, don't fear the reaper. We'll be able to fly, don't fear the reaper."

It was Filch singing to Mrs. Norris. Joy-struck, Harry waved madly at the other two he liked to follow him as quickly as possible; against Harry's wishes they dragged him silently toward the door, away from Filch's drunken dulcet tones. Neville's robes had barely whipped round the corner when they heard Filch stumble and crash in the trophy room. "Baby I'm your man. La, la, la, la, la. La, la, la, la, la"

"Let's go back!" Harry mouthed to the others and, ignoring him, they began to creep down a long gallery full of suits of armor. They could hear Filch falling over. The clanging and crashing were enough to wake the castle.

"FILCH ARE YOU OKAY?" Harry yelled, and the other three dragged him down the gallery, not looking back to see whether Filch was alive, they swung around the doorpost and hustled down one corridor then another,

"I think we've lost him," Neville panted, leaning against the cold wall and wiping his forehead.

"I told you," Hermione gasped, clutching at the stitch in her chest, Harry breathing heavily was glad it was her leaning against him and not Ron, Neville's hair looked fantastic so he wouldn't say no to him either. "Malfoy tricked you," Hermione whispered to Harry. "You realize that, don't you? He was never going to meet you." Harry thought she was probably right and he felt the way she was rubbing his chest was soothing but a little much, he wasn't going to tell her that though. "Let's just go."

It wasn't going to be that simple. They hadn't gone more than a dozen paces when a doorknob rattled and something came shooting out of a classroom in front of them. It was Peeves carrying a car battery and a pair of clamps. He caught sight of them and gave a squeal of delight. "Ah balls it's Peeves." Peeves cackled. "Wandering around at midnight, Freshmen?"

"Don't kill us, Peeves, please."

"Go eat a bag of dicks," snapped Ron, taking a swipe at Peeves this was a big mistake.

"DEAD STUDENTS!" Peeves bellowed pulling a power drill from his coat, "DEAD STUDENTS DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!"

Ducking under Peeves, they ran for their lives, right to the end of the corridor where Harry slammed into a door falling over, as Hermione checked Harry was okay the other two tried to open the door and it was locked. "This is it!" Ron moaned, as they pushed helplessly at the door, "I AM GOING TO KILL YOU ALL" They could hear footsteps, someone running as fast as he could away from Peeves's approaching drill. "Oh, move over," Hermione snarled. She squeezed Harry's hand in reassurance, then with her wand tapped the lock, and whispered, "Alohomora!"

The lock clicked and the door swung open they piled through it, shut it quickly, and pressed their ears against it, listening except Harry who still blind wandered off. "I think he's gone." Neville whispered. "I think we'll be okay" Neville breathed out he then turned and whimpered "ah fuck ah balls, we are dead." He started pulling on the sleeve of Hermione's bathrobe. "What?"

The group turned around and were looking straight into the eyes of a monstrous dog, a dog that filled the space between ceiling and floor. It had three heads. Three pairs of rolling, mad eyes; three noses, twitching and quivering in their direction; three drooling mouths.

It was standing still, all six eyes staring at them, and Harry was stroking its leg wondering what the hell it was. Neville groped for the doorknob while Hermione tried to get Harry to follow her voice. The three-headed dog had actually rolled over on its back as Harry continued rubbing. Hermione slowly crept forward to grab Harry's hand to get him out of there while Neville was trying to stop Ron from closing the door on them trapping them with the giant three-headed possibly murderous dog.

Forcing their way out, hearing the whine of a dog who had abruptly lost a good rub down, they almost flew back down the corridor. All they wanted to do was put as much space as possible between them and that monster Ron. They didn't stop running until they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady on the seventh floor.

"What the fuck?" she asked, looking at their bathrobes hanging off their shoulders and their flushed, sweaty faces. "Never mind that pig snout, pig snout," panted Neville, and the portrait swung forward. They scrambled into the common room Harry banging his head on the way in and collapsed, trembling, into armchairs. It was a while before any of them said anything. Neville, looked as if he'd never speak again. "What do they think they're doing, keeping a giant savage dog like that locked up in a school?" said Neville finally. "It's like they are trying to kill students."

Hermione had got both her breath and her bad temper back again. "You don't use your eyes, do you?" she snapped. "Didn't you see what it was standing on. "I'm legally blind here" Harry replied before something clicked. "Hang on there was a giant savage dog? AND YOU LET ME STROKE IT FOR TEN MINUTES?" Hermione rubbed his arm in reassurance and continued her point. "It was standing on a trapdoor. It's obviously guarding something." She stood up, glaring at Ron climbing back into the portrait hole with a bulging bag adorned with the word 'swag'. "I hope you're pleased with yourself. We could all have been killed or worse, expelled. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to bed." Ron glared after her. Ron hadn't heard what she said he is just a hate filled person.

But Hermione had given Harry something else to think about as he realised she hadn't let go of his hand and he was now in the girls dorm. The dog was guarding something. What had Hagrid said? Gringotts is the safest place in the world for something you wanted to hide except perhaps Hogwarts.

It looked as though Harry had found out where the grubby little package from vault seven hundred and thirteen was and he didn't really care right now he was in a whole world of trouble.

_**A.N. Always nice to hear from you as always R.R etc and I have to admit I had no idea how I was going to get Harry out to meet fluffy but the idea of him being wheeled out without his glasses gave me no end of joy add in him being blind wandering around like Mr. Magoo just adds to that.**_

_**Next time. Halloween and a Troll.**_


	10. Not even the toilets are safe

_**A.N. Hey I saw you from across the bar and came to tell you how good you look in a weird and arkward way I have a bad fanfiction you can read I make like 3 fart jokes. I'll leave now but boy do I have a friend for you.**_

_**You're right I don't have any friends.**_

Chapter 10

Malfoy couldn't believe his eyes when he saw that Harry was still at Hogwarts and Ron had once again stolen his watch. After much discussion in bed by the next morning Harry and Hermione thought that meeting the three-headed dog had been an absolute waste of a night, and they were quite keen to get Ron expelled. In the meantime, Harry filled Neville in about the package that seemed to have moved from Gringotts to Hogwarts, and they spent a lot of time wondering what could need such heavy protection. "It's either really valuable or dangerous," said Neville. "Or both," said Harry. "Knowing this school it will probably kill everyone."

However Neville and Hermione showed no interest in the dog and the trapdoor. All Harry cared about was never going near the dog again. Hermione was now refusing to speak to Ron, but she was an actual person and not a hate filled chaos goblin like himself so he saw it as an added bonus. All Ron really wanted now was a way of getting back at Malfoy.

As the owls flooded into the Great Hall as usual, everyone's attention was caught at once by a long, thin package carried by six large screech owls. Harry was just as interested as everyone else to see what was in this large parcel, and was rightfully pissed off when the owls soared down and dropped it right in front of him, knocking his bacon to the floor. He was eating that, wasting food the little bastards. They had hardly fluttered out of the way when another owl dropped a letter on top of the parcel and exploded. Hagrid was getting better with his aim. Harry opened the letter first, which was lucky, it said:

DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE.

It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand, but I thought you could keep some sense of dignity. Oliver Wood will meet you tonight on the Quidditch field at seven o'clock for your first training session.

Professor McGonagall

Harry had difficulty hiding his annoyance as he crushed the note in his hand.

"A Nimbus Two Thousand!" Ron moaned enviously as he had already opened the package. "I've never even touched one. Fucking security guards."

Harry snatched the broom back and left the hall quickly, wanting to get a seat next to someone pleasant in his first class, but halfway across the entrance hall He found the way upstairs barred by Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy seized the broom from Harry and felt it. Harry noted he seemed way too into it. Throwing it back to Harry with a mixture of jealousy and spite on his face. "You'll be in for it this time, Potter, first years aren't allowed them." Ron as though drawn to conflict couldn't resist taking the piss. It's not any old broomstick," he said, "it's a Nimbus Two Thousand. What did you say you've got at home, Malfoy, a Comet Two Sixty?" Ron grinned at Harry, and Harry glared at Ron. "Comets are shit they're not in the same league as the Nimbus."

"What would you know about it, Weasley, you couldn't afford half the handle," Malfoy snapped back. "I suppose you and your brothers would have to whore out your mother again. Not that she would need much convincing. Mom told me all about Molly 'the pack mule' Prewett, always ready for a load." Before Ron could take a swing, Professor Flitwick appeared at Malfoy's elbow. "We all know Mr. Weasleys mother is a whore no need to be rude about it, I hope, boys? Though I heard to muggleborn students she was known as the washing machine for the same reason." he squeaked. "Potter's been sent a broomstick, Professor," said Malfoy quickly.

"Yes, yes, that's right," said Professor Flitwick, smiling sadly at Harry. "Professor McGonagall told me all about the special circumstances, Potter. And what model is it?"

"A Nimbus Two Thousand, according to the note," said Harry, fighting not to laugh at the look of rage on Rons face. "And it's really thanks to Malfoy here that I've got it," he added. Harry excused himself not really liking two of the five people in the conversation.

"God he is such an asshole." came an angry voice from just behind him. Hermione was stomping up the stairs, looking extremely annoyed. "Hey I'm still annoyed at you McGonagall extended my punishment by another 2 years because you took me up to the wrong dorms." said Harry. Hermione ignored him and continued ranting with her nose in the air.

Harry had a lot of trouble keeping his mind on his lessons that day. It kept wandering up to the dormitory where his new broomstick was lying under his bed, wondering when Ron would be trying to steal it, the last thing he needs is to piss McGonagall off more. So far he had on his record creating a fake student, dunking a rich white kid in Hagrid soup and spending a night in the girls dorm room. No one complained about the last one but it was more the principal. He ate his dinner that evening keeping an eye on Ron. It was not pleasant.

"Wow," Ron sighed, as the broomstick rolled onto Harry's bedspread. Harry was again pissed off he goes to the toilet and of course this guy would take any fucking chance. Looking at the broom he noticed it looked like a fucking broom just a bit fancy.

As seven o'clock drew nearer, Harry left the castle and set off toward the Quidditch field. He had never been inside the stadium before. Hundreds of seats were raised in stands around the field so that the spectators were high enough to see what was going on. At either end of the field were three golden poles with hoops on the end. The entire stadium looked like it could use some repair work. Harry thought a few replaced panels some paint and the stadium would look like a piece of crap instead of a pile of shit.

Bored out of his mind, Harry mounted his broomstick and kicked off from the ground. He flew around the stadium, yeah okay this was pretty cool he thought as he looped the loop and got used to flying.

"Hey, Bro, come down!"

Oliver Wood had arrived. He was holding an american football and wearing a letterman jacket. Harry landed next to him. "I didn't know you could actually fly man. Noice," said Wood, his eyes glinting. "So lets play some catch!" He said with a grin.

"Shouldn't you tell me the rules?" Harry said shrugging "Thats what we are doing brah."

So Harry and Wood stood several metres apart and tossed the ball between them as he explained the game. "So after a conversion is worth 2 points?" Harry repeated catching the ball and throwing it back at Wood who nodded "Quidditch is complicated." Harry said running a hand through his hair.

Wood looked confused "What you talking about? We weren't talking about Quidditch." Harry looked at Wood who was shaking his head "Then what were you explaining to me?"

Wood grinned "Murican Footbawl bro, don't worry about Quidditch Potbrah, all you need to know is catch a small gold flying ball and people will try to kick your ass. Most people who play Quidditch are violent criminals." Harry stared as the pigskin hit him in the face as Oliver yelled FOOTBAWL.

This went on for an hour the two discussed different topics, well Wood said things he was thinking about and Harry asked for clarification on how people were going to kick his ass.

"That Quidditch Cup'll have our name on it this year," said Wood happily as they trudged back up to the castle. "You ever think we be with girls because they say you are supposed to?"

"Where you going with this Oliver?"

"Oh just something my dad kept saying when we went fishing. We went fishing a lot. Have you ever been fishing Harry?"

"Goodnight Oliver."

Perhaps it was because he so busy with Oliver taking him fishing three evenings a week on top of all his homework and just fucking Ron, but Harry could hardly believe it when he realized that he'd already been at Hogwarts two months it felt like longer. The castle felt more like hell than Privet Drive ever had. His lessons, too, were becoming more and more boring now that they had mastered the basics.

On Halloween morning they woke to the rancid smell of burnt pumpkin wafting through the corridors. On a positive note, Professor Flitwick announced in Charms that he thought they were ready to start making objects fly, something they had all been dying to try since they'd seen him make Neville's toad zoom around the classroom this was mainly a warning to stop bringing animals to your fucking classes you absolute morons. Neville's toad, Trevor has plotted his revenge since.

Professor Flitwick put the class into pairs to practice. Harry's partner was Seamus Finnigan (which was a relief, because 80% of the class had tried to catch his eye, the stand-off on the grounds still fresh in their minds and their loins). Ron, however, was slacking off while Hermione Granger worked. It was hard to tell whether Ron or Hermione was angrier about this. She hadn't shut up about how he's the worst since the day Harry's broomstick had arrived.

"Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've practiced!" squeaked Professor Flitwick, perched on top of his pile of books as usual. "Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important, too never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."

"You keep saying that but you won't tell us what spell he was trying. Buffalo summoning sounds awesome" someone yelled.

It was very easy. Harry and Seamus swished and flicked, and the feather they were supposed to send skyward bounced on the desktop. Seamus got so excited that he prodded it with his wand and set fire to it, Harry had to put it out with his hat telling him to calm the hell down its embarrassing. Ron, at the next table, wasn't evening trying.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" he yawned, waving his long arms like a windmill.

"You're saying it wrong," Harry heard Hermione snap. "It's Wing- gar -dium Levi- o -sa, make the 'gar' nice and long."

"Choke on a piece of shit and die," Ron snarled. Hermione rolled up the sleeves of her gown, flicked her wand, and said, "Wingardium Leviosa!" Their feather rose off the desk and hovered about four feet above their heads.

"Oh, well done!" cried Professor Flitwick, clapping. "Mr Weasley just got burned!" Ron was in a very bad mood by the end of the class. Not even a bucket landing on the Professors head and a paint can knocking him across the room could cheer him up, though Trevor was very happy his revenge was a success.

"It's no wonder no one can stand her," he said as he pushed way to Harry's side, "she's a bitch, honestly." Someone knocked into Harry as they hurried past him. It was Hermione. Harry caught a glimpse of her face and was very startled to see that she was in tears and had blood running down her lip.

"You pushed her down the stairs didn't you." Harry said glaring daggers at Ron.

"So?" said Ron, but he looked way too happy about it. "She must've noticed she's got no friends."

Hermione didn't turn up for the next class which was odd as it was Professor Sarcasmo's class and wasn't seen all afternoon. On their way down to the Great Hall for the Halloween feast, Harry overheard Parvati Patil telling her friend Lavender that Hermione was crying in the girls' bathroom and wanted to be left alone. Ron looked still more joyous at this, but a moment later he had a fist knock him to the ground from Harry. He entered the Great Hall in a bad mood. One it was the night his parents were brutally murdered, two just Ron, just fucking Ron Weasley .

A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the pumpkins stutter. People screamed and ran before coming back after being told the bats were gone. The feast appeared suddenly on the golden plates, as it had at the start-of-term banquet.

Harry was just helping himself to a salad as he had to keep his figure, when Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore's chair, slumped against the table, and gasped, "Troll in the dungeons thought you ought to know. " He then sank to the floor in a dead faint while his turban yelped in pain then told him he was a terrible actor.

There was an uproar. It took shots from Professor Dumbledore's handgun to bring silence.

"Prefects," he rumbled, "lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!" McGonagall grabbed his arm "Albus two of the dorms are in the dungeons." She hissed. Dumbledore eyes narrowed and asked "Which dorms?" The rest of the staff just stared until Dumbledore's heart restarted and conceded. "Fine, everyone stay here. Professors suit up and search for the troll, I have other business."

"And what will you be doing Albus?" McGonagall asked tying a red bandana around her head "I'm going for a bath." He said holding a rubber duck and a towel as he walked out of the hall quacking.

Harry looked around the hall seeing no one really cared about the troll and some of the others kick Quirrell who was clearly pretending to be unconscious. When a thought hit him.

"I've just thought, Hermione." He said turning to Neville.

"What about her?"

"She doesn't know about the troll."

Ron looked like he was about to orgasm at the thought. Throwing a mean left hook, Harry stood up and walked out of the hall announcing where he was going. No one seemed to care or stop him. Harry walked along the corridors towards the girls toilets Hermoine was weeping in. Steeling himself before entering the sanctuary known as the girls toilets he pushed himself through the threshold and sighed in relief when he was not immediately kicked in the nuts.

"This is much nicer than the mens." He whispered to himself, before walking forward towards the only closed cubical. Knocking on the door he called "Hey Hermione, it's me Harry, you want to come out now?"

Harry being only eleven was woefully unprepared with the herculean task which is trying to talk a crying person out of a toilet.

I personally don't know how hard that is normally I am the reason they are in there or its me they are trying to get out. I once was in a toilet for 5 hours while the cinema staff took turns trying to talk me out. It was after I went to see Valerian city of a thousand worlds, I just couldn't handle. It was after that scene where the blueish looking monster things asked to get the pearl shitting wombat to revive their city or something and the personality lacking main character says something about the rules, this is after in the start of the fucking movie where the unlikable sexually harassing his co pilot despite her saying no MAIN CHARACTER tells us his good points (not showing us he is those like characters do is fucking movies, because that's what I want my characters to do tell me their personality traits to get it out-of-the-way) and says he 'doesn't play by the rules (despite being a fucking Major in a military organisation, the 7th highest officer rank). I just lost it yelled, made a big mess, broke into tears and locked myself in the toilets. I wrote them an apology letter for the mess I made but they wrote me back agreeing how bad that movie was and gave me a free popcorn, wasn't that nice of them. Oh wait this is Harry Potter.

After 30 minutes of chatting, reassurance and true heart to hearts Hermione exited the cubical and hugged Harry. After the hug lasted an uncomfortably long time for a 'friend' hug Harry smiled and said "Ready to, wait. What's that smell?" Hermione also noticing the scent turned in unison toward the door of the toilet.

It was a horrible sight. Twelve feet tall, its skin was a dull, granite gray, a great lumpy body like a boulder with its small bald head perched on top like a coconut. It had short legs thick as tree trunks with flat, horny feet. The smell coming from it was incredible. It was holding a huge wooden club, which dragged along the floor because its arms were so long. It was also wearing a T-shirt which quoted the big bang theory.

The pair stared in silence at the troll unsure what to do or say, the troll loomed over them before its ghastly maw opened. "WOMEN CAN'T BE GHOSTBUSTERS AND SHOULDN'T BE ALLOWED TO VOTE!" Both Harry and Hermione blinked at the sudden outburst and Harry said the only thing that came to his mind "What?"

"BITCHES WILL ALWAYS TRY TO STAB YOU IN THE BACK."

Hermione had to stop Harry from taking a swing at the troll, because of this they didn't notice a worse smell approaching, "Is that the troll?" came a familiar voice, Harry and Hermione leaned sideways to look past the troll and saw Neville being held in a headlock by Ron by the door. "What the, actually Ron I don't care about you. Neville what are you doing here?"

"Ron stole my Remembrall and I was trying to get it back." Neville said while the troll yelled something mysgosincistic and hit the roof with its club. "So what do we do?" Harry asked trying to find a way out of this situation. "Just ignore it paying attention will only make it louder" Neville said before he was choked harder. The troll decided to yell something really bad which made Harry turn and say 'dude wow' Hermione turned his head back forward. "What did he just say Harry?"

Harry nodded and tried to remember when Hermione had grabbed his hand her grip was like a vice. "That didn't answer the question Neville, what are you doing here specifically." Harry said, trying to understand his life at this point. "Right." gasped Neville "After I tried to get it back he grabbed me like this and started dragging me to the toilets to shove my head down it." The troll loudly yelled something sexist while stomping its foot.

"Why this toilet?" "He wanted to tell Hermione she had no friends." Neville added and the troll yelled some sexist remark smashing its keyboard on the wall..

Harry looked at the group in silence "So what now?" Ron also yelled something sexist and a bit racist. Harry now extremely pissed started rooting around in his pockets finding the rock he owned Malfoy with. In severe anger he tossed it at the beast called Ron "Shut the fuck up!". The stone missed the red-headed monster, bounced off the wall then hit the ceiling. After a couple of seconds cracks webbed from the point of impact and a large slab of roof, carrying a bath tub crushed the troll.

It was at this moment Professor squad Omega team Alpha burst in the door, wands locked and loaded only to come to a halt in complete silence. Professor McGonagall stared at the trolls two feet sticking from under the slab of roof in curiosity while putting the safety back on her wand, Snape didn't look to interested he was thinking how much nicer the girls toilet was than the boys even with the dead creature. Quirrel however upon seeing the dead troll he placed a hand on his head in an over the top way and pretended to faint, his turban swore in pain as he landed.

No one knew what to say or do in this situation, not the four school children who watched a troll become a pancake, not the teachers who burst in ready for some action and especially not Dumbledore who sat in the bath toy boat in one hand and rubber duck in the other wondering where the rest of the bathroom went.

Taking the initiative Dumbledore rose to his full height and spoke in what was his most commanding tone "Someone explain." soap dripping from his head. All eyes were immediately drawn to his wand, After a few seconds of silence it was Hermione spoke, she explained how she was crying in the toilet how Harry came to get her and how the Troll ended up getting crushed by an old man in a bathtub. She had added about how it was Rons fault she was there but it seemed to fall on deaf ears. Or rather would be deaf ears the moment anything happens to any of her children the shrieking banshee known as Molly 'the washing machine' Weasley jumps in. No one wants to deal with that shit.

Dumbledore nodded along as he pretended to listen. "Very good, Professor McGonagall you handle this I am going to bed." Dumbledore he climbed from the tub, slipping and falling to the floor. He waddled from the room his wrinkled old flesh still dripping with bubbles.

Shaking off that image the head of Gryffindor turned to the students all of her house and considered what to do. First thing she did was a banishing spell on Mr. Weasley as he was still hitting Mr. Longbottom.

She then turned her ire towards the other three internally debating what to do. A sinister voice whispered and told her to kill Potter, but she never listened to Snape the greasy virgin. The grease was like it was caked on, so much he could slide along the floor unaided. Does no one in the wizarding world shower?

"You know what fuck it." She groaned out while rubbing her eyes it had been a long day "Just go back to your dorms I don't care today." Professor McGonagall turned to Harry before he left and added.

"I will say you were lucky, but not many first years could have talked a full-blown crying teenager from the toilet. You win Gryffindor five points. You may go."

The group hurried out of the chamber and didn't speak at all until they had climbed two floors up. It was a relief to finally be away from the smell of Ron. "Anyone else think we should just hide in our dorm rooms? most of the time when we leave some shit goes down" Harry said sounding tired.

The other two thought he had a point. They had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Pig snout," they said and entered.

The common room was packed and noisy, it was Halloween and the twins had snuck in some booze. Harry wanted to go to bed but was unable to get out of Hermione's grip apparently she was still terrified about what happened.

What Harry was now realising is that there are some things you experience where you can't help but reflect upon your life choices and wonder where you went wrong and accidentally crushing a troll with a bathtub in a toilet is one of them.

_**A.N. Thanks for sticking it out you're a real hero or heroine next time is... FUCK! FUCKING QUIDDITCH. Can I skip next week?... No? but I really want to... Okay fine for you imaginary person.**_


	11. Quidditch sigh

_**A.N. Sorry its late I.m Drunk but it doesnt mean I dont love you I just need the drink ooo toast.**_

Chapter 11

As November punched its way to the front of the calendar, the weather turned bitterly cold. The mountains around the school became gray and the lake iced over. Every morning the ground was covered in a couple of feet of snow. Hagrid could be seen from the upstairs windows poorly writing his name in the snow. His urine cut through the frost like acid through a guys face.

The Quidditch season had sadly begun. On Saturday, Harry would be playing in his first match after weeks of no training: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. If Gryffindor won, they would still be in last place in the house championship. Gryffindors were not very smart.

The news that he was playing Seeker had leaked out somehow, and Harry didn't know which was worse; the looks of pity or people asking him what the fuck Quidditch is? He still had no idea.

Hermione had become a bit more relaxed since Harry had accidentally murdered a mountain troll, and she was much more mellow. The day before Harry's first Quidditch match the two of them and Neville were out in the freezing courtyard during break, and she had conjured them up a bright blue fire that could be carried around in a jam jar. They were standing with their backs to it, getting warm while Harry wondered why the hell they weren't inside, when Snape stumbled across the yard. Harry noticed at once that Snape was limping and could smell the booze from here. Harry, Neville, and Hermione moved closer together to block the fire from view; they were sure it wouldn't be allowed, which was a sound bet since students starting fires is rarely allowed anywhere. Unfortunately, they caught Snape's eye. He limped over stumbling into several pillars and falling over twice. He hadn't seen the fire, but he seemed to be looking for a reason to start some shit anyway.

"Why are there two of you, Potter?" Harry showed him his middle finger. "If I could figure out which of you are real I would punish you," said Snape. "Fuck it. Five points from Gryffindor."

"Well isn't he a peach," Harry muttered angrily as Snape limped away. "Wonder what's wrong with his leg?"

"I don't know, but from the stench of whiskey I can only guess." said Neville trying to remember why they were outside.

The Gryffindor common room was very noisy that evening. Harry and Hermione sat together next to a window. Hermione was checking Harry's Charms homework for him. Though he got the right answers anyways, it was really basic stuff, she would still ask to read through it.

Harry felt bored. He turned to Neville who had managed to snag the one good bean bags in the tower. "Did you get your Remembrall back Nev?" Neville looked quite comfortable and ignored the looks of jealousy. "No Snape took it and left it in the staff room. I would go get it but frankly he scares me." Harry shook his head. Why should he be afraid of Snape? Snape is a pussycat. Getting up, he told Neville and Hermione he was going to ask Snape if he could have it back.

"Make sure no one takes my seat." He called as he left knowing it was an impossible task. Everyone went nuts everytime he left a seat.

He made his way down to the staff room and knocked. There was no answer. He knocked again. Nothing.

Perhaps Snape had left the Remembrall in there? It was worth a try. He pushed the door ajar and peered inside - and a horrible scene m et his eyes.

Snape and Filch were inside, alone with the exception of Professor Sarcasmo. Snape was holding his robes above his bent over waist. One of his legs was bloody and mangled. Filch was handing Snape bandages. "I got this one in Danang," Snape said, pointing at a tattoo, positioned directly in the middle of the 'tramp stamp' area.

Harry stood motionless, disgusted and tried to shut his brain down, but he was quickly noticed.

"POTTER!" Snape's face was twisted with fury as he shuffled to face Harry. "I just wondered if I could have Neville's Remembrall back and some bleach for my eyes."

"You have 3 second to get out before I start throwing lethal spells."

Harry left, before Snape could shuffle at him. He sprinted back upstairs. "Did you get it?" Neville asked as Harry walked past them toward the showers. "What's the matter?"

In a low whisper, Harry told them what he'd seen and started the hot water in the shower. Hoping beyond hope he would feel clean. Neville and Hermione were silent they didn't know what to say to make him feel better or take off his clothes.

Harry went to bed with his head buzzing with the same question. Neville was snoring loudly, but Harry couldn't sleep. He tried to empty his mind. he needed to sleep, he had to, he had his first Quidditch match in a few hours but the expression on Snape's bare ass when Harry had entered the room wasn't easy to forget.

The next morning dawned very bright and cold. The Great Hall was full of the delicious smell of fried sausages and the cheerful chatter of everyone looking forward to missing a day of school, sure they had to endure a Quidditch match, still no school.

"You've got to eat some breakfast."

"I don't want anything."

"Just a bit of toast," wheedled Hermione.

"I'm not hungry. "

Harry felt terrible. In an hour's time he'd be walking onto the field.

"Harry, you need your strength," said Seamus Finnigan. "Seekers are always the ones who get clobbered by the other team." "Thanks, asshole," said Harry, watching Seamus pile ketchup on his sausages, idly wondering why he was putting on so much sauce, at this point all he would be tasting would be the ketchup not the sausages.

By eleven o'clock the school seemed to be forced out in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. Many students had binoculars. The seats might be raised high in the air, but it was still difficult to see what was going on sometimes.

Hermione joined Neville, Seamus, and Dean the West Ham fan up in the top row. As a surprise for Harry, they had painted a large banner on one of the sheets Ron had ruined. It said Potter for President, and Dean, who was not good at drawing, had tried to draw a large Gryffindor lion underneath. Then Hermione had performed a tricky little charm so that the paint flashed different colors. It was fairly embarrassing.

Meanwhile, in the locker room, Harry and the rest of the team were changing into their scarlet Quidditch robes (Slytherin would be playing in green). They used to do shirts versus skins but you know.

Wood cleared his throat for silence. "Okay, bro's," he said. "And women, because apparently we still don't get our own changing rooms." said Chaser Angelina Johnson. "I don't hear anyone complaining," said Fred Weasley. "I'm complaining!" She replied. "And broettes." Wood agreed. "This is it."

"The one we've all been waiting for," said George.

"We know Oliver's speech by heart," Fred told Harry, "we were on the team last year."

"Woah chill out, you two," said Wood. "This is the best team Gryffindor's had in years. We're going to win. I feel it. Now let us drink a cold one in the name of Brosiden." They all stared at him "NOW!" He glared at them all as if to say, "Or else."

McGonagall leaned into the locker room in time to see all the school aged kids with open beer. Shaking it off due to remembering the sacred ritual of Brosiden, she added her own encouragement "I just wanted to tell you all. Good Luck, we are all counting on you."

Harry followed Fred and George out of the locker room and, hoping his knees weren't going to give way, walked onto the field to mild cheers. Madam Hooch was refereeing. She stood in the middle of the field waiting for the two teams, her broom in her hand.

"Now, I want a nice fair game, all of you," she said, once they were all gathered around her. Harry noticed that she seemed to be speaking particularly to the Slytherin Captain, Marcus Flint, a sixth year. Harry thought Flint looked as if he had juiced considering his arms were ripping through his uniform. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the fluttering banner high above, flashing Potter for President over the crowd. His heart skipped. He felt so embarrassed, though this wasn't the first time he had fans holding banners, they usually said 'Marry me Harrietta' though.

"Mount your brooms, please." Harry clambered on his Nimbus Two Thousand.

Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle. Fifteen brooms rose up, high, high into the air. They were off.

"And the Quaffle is taken by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor, what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too"

"JORDAN! KEEP IT IN YOUR PANTS I'VE TOLD YOU ABOUT THIS BEFORE."

McGonagall had warned Lee about this before though he usually waved it off as meaning something else the fact he stood making thrusting motions gave him away.

Harry still unsure what he was supposed to be doing watched the game closely while listening to Lee's commentary. Angelina sped up the flank passing to another team member Alicia Spinnet then back and forth in rapid succession.

As the pair approached the Slytherin keeper Harry noted he didn't seem to be paying attention hell he didn't even seem to be awake. Slytherin Bletchley is narcoleptic so he is constantly punished for falling asleep in class.

Alicia span in place launching the quaffle high in the air above the Slytherin goals, Angelina climbed her broom and leapt into the air, a spiral of flames followed the chaser into the air with a final flaming spin her foot hit the ball distorting its shape with raw power. With a scream of 'FIRE TORNADO' the quaffle shot like a small flaming meteor towards the sleeping Slytherin keeper. And so it was from her flaming boot to his barely conscious face the first goal was scored in this game.

Polite applause filled the arena while the kids from non magical families sat in awe unsure of what happened.

"Budge up there, move along."

"Oh god what's that smell, hey Hagrid!"

Hermione moved to give Hagrid enough space to join them and sit downwind.

"Bin watchin' from me hut," said Hagrid, patting a large pair of binoculars around his neck, "But it isn't the same as being' in the crowd. No sign of the Snitch yet, eh?"

"Nope," said Neville. "Harry has just been floating there loudly yelling." If he had listened closely he could have probably made out the words 'the' 'fuck' and 'happened'.

"Kept outta trouble, though, that's something'," said Hagrid, raising his binoculars and peering skyward at the speck that was Harry. Way up above them, Harry was gliding over the game, wondering what the hell he was supposed to do and whether all wizards and witches could do that, this was when he remembered his and Wood's game plan.

"Keep out of the way until you catch sight of the Snitch," Wood told him between deadlifts. "We don't want you attacked before you have to be." Harry had asked what a 'snitch' was but was not answered because wood accidentally deuced.

"A goal has been scored you know what that means people!" Lee called over the stadium "WHEEL. OF. QUIDDITCH!" no sooner had he finished did a giant wheel poof into existence with 16 different section on the outside and ten on the inside. Two glowing balls bounced around the separate parts one stopping on the number 40 and the other being two fists in a flame.

Lee seemed really into it "Oh lordy lordy loo we got ourselves a HEAT BATTLE!" he screamed to the crowds tepid response. A floating circular platform shimmered into view and immediately a player from each team appeared.

It was Slytherin beater Lucian Bole who made the first move charging forward, he swung his bat with reckless abandon trying to hit the Gryffindor Chaser Katie Bell, who ducked and dived out of the way. After a large swing Katie dove in with two punches to Bole's face then a mule kick sending him rolling to the other side of the platform. Her entire form seemed to glow in red flaming energy.

"Christ is she okay it looks like she is on fire!" Harry said worried as he floated down to the Weasley twins watching the fight. Fred or George but most definitely not Eric laughed and waved him off "Nah Katie's fine Harry, you see when in combat repeated hits generate heat and when it reaches a certain level it shows like that and you can perform heat moves." He explained. Harry stared for a second before adding "Only in Quidditch right?" Both twins looked at Harry like they were not expecting that question "Sure."

Katie sped forward and used both hands to clap Boles ears, then in a flash with both hands gripping his head she leapt back carrying him with her as she fell to one knee the other raised. The crowd witnessed on the jumbotron Boles eyes move from dazed to confusion, then to terror then to resignation then back to terror then just hopped between those two for a bit then disappear to the back of his head as his face smashed into the Gryffindors knee and fly backwards in a spray of gore.

"What a wonderful heat move by Bell Gryffindor earns the extra 40 points." Lee shouted as both players yelled in celebration Katie for getting the points and Bole for still being alive.

When the normal game part, I guess, resumed Harry returned to his previous game plan staying the fuck out of the way.

"And they are off again, Gryffindor 50 Slytherin 0, and snake chaser Pucey has the ball he passed one, he passed two and can I please get some wings up here."

Chaser Adrien Pucey, whose only crime was owning up to a bad fart in class, threw the quaffle into the air before launching himself with a single spin. Using the momentum of the spin his foot burst into a sickly green aura and smashed into the falling ball, with a yell of 'Snake Shot!' the quaffle enveloped in green might spiraled towards a grinning Wood.

"Naw Bro." He taunted before his body burst into a flaming orange aura of pure bro energy. From the crackling force a large grim shape emerged, looking like an orange ogre (or a brogre maybe, I think I am pushing the bro thing too much, what do you think? Answers on a postcard) wearing a side turned baseball cap and a letterman jacket. As if mimicking Olivers movements the thing moved back one of its hands then threw it forward. With a scream of 'BROJIN THE HAND' and the force of a million fistbumps the palm met the spiralling ball bringing it to a complete stop.

Harry floated back down to one of the twins. "Can you tell me what the fuck that was?" Forge or Gred but definately not gric or fric answered "Ah you see Harry when a person is filled with football, I mean, competitive spirit they can pull of hidden techniques as you can see they take forms based on the user."

Harry stared "That sounds dumb."

"Is That the Snitch?" Came Lees yell over the snoring of the crowd. "You're up Harry" the twin said point to the small gold glint flashing near the floor. Harry shrugged and dove after it followed closely by the Slytherin Seeker Terrence Higgs. Propelling several hundred miles per hour towards the hard ground, Harry realised he was eleven years old and would most likely die if he kept going as it was only his second time flying. The crowd laughed as Harry pulled out of the dive. It was most likely due to Higgs flapping his arms like a chicken while turning towards Harry that he didn't realise he should have pulled up himself.

"Oooo and Higgs is a pancake, what a feint by Potter pretending to chicken out." The crowd mildly cheered and Harry shrugged. Once Higgs had regained consciousness the game resumed.

Harry returned to his place above the match watching the ball bounce back and forth. He heard a noise and looked to see a glowing orb floating at the end of his broom "The hell is that?" He asked someone zooming past him "Just say a players names name." "Higgs?" Harry told the orb and immediately it shot off. Seconds later he heard a scream and watched the flaming wreckage of Higgs fall past him into a giant pile of unwashed clothes.

Once again Lee's voice called over the stadium "We would again like to thank Hagrid for supplying his dirty underwear for this match. Hagrid bowed to the mild applause and bashfully added "Well Filch helped too you know."

Harry watched several bonus rounds including an armwrestling competition a quiz round and another heat battle, it was when he was once again wondering what he should do it happened his broom lurched.

Harry easily maintained his balance but he was a little off putting, then it came again and again in greater and greater lurches.

"Dunno what Harry thinks he's doing," Hagrid mumbled. He stared through his binoculars. "He should know that he can't be doing that without a cowboy hat. Look at him go though." Harry was used to this the pagents they almost always had a mechanical bull round.

"Did something happen before he went up today?" Seamus whispered.

"Can't have," Hagrid said, his voice shaking. "Can't nothing interfere with a broomstick except powerful Dark magic - no kid could do that to a Nimbus Two Thousand. "

At these words, Hermione seized Hagrid's binoculars, taking a quick look up at Harry, she started looking frantically at the crowd. "What are you doing?" groaned Neville.

"I knew it," Hermione gasped, "Snape look." Neville grabbed the binoculars. Snape was in the middle of the stands opposite them. He had his eyes fixed on Harry and was sporting a shit eating grin. "He's enjoying this way too much" said Hermione. "What should we do?"

"Leave it to me." Came the most hated voice in Gryffindor.

Before anyone could say another word, Ron had disappeared. Hermione turned the binoculars back on Harry. His broom was vibrating so hard, it was almost impossible for him to hang on much longer, especially with these new and strange sensations. "You go Harry," Hermione muttered desperately.

Ron had fought his way across to the stand where Snape stood, and was now racing along the row behind him; he stopped deliberately to knock Professor Quirrell headfirst into the row in front. Reaching Snape, he crouched down, pulled out his wand, and then pulled out the jar he had stolen from Hermione. Jumping into the air raising the jar he smashed it into the head of everyone's third most hated professor.

At first Snape leapt up in pain after all having a glass jar smashed on your head will cause pain and when his eyes snapped to the red headed bastard laughing he immediately grabbed him around the throat and started choking. That's when the blue flames reached grease level one.

Seeing their second most hated colleague on fire choking a student the rest of the faculty decided to do what they normally would, hose him down. Now two things went wrong first adding water to a grease fire second adding an explosion to a constant source of methane (Ron's Ass). The entire staff area was enveloped in a large rancid explosion sending bodies in multiple directions.

Maybe it was the lack of breakfast in the morning, maybe it was the stress of being thrown into a sport you have no idea about in front of an entire school without knowing the rules, or maybe it was the smoldering form of your potions professor flying past you tramp stamp in full display ( he would not realise until later that the nude woman on his tat is his own mother) but Harry felt something bubble up inside him he had to let out.

"He looks like he's about to throw up." Hagrid added staring at his best friend. Hagrid was wrong, Harry had in fact started to throw up. And so like a horrible Catherine wheel he spun through the air spewing into the wind after being thrown from his broom.

There is a rule in Quidditch that if a match lasts longer than 5 minutes they start increasing the number of bludgers to the game, mostly to punish the players. The sirens rang and the commentator Lee yelled "MULTI BALL MULTI BALL!" as bludger after bludger shot forth and the beater desperately hit them away.

The stand holding the Ravenclaw students collapsed onto Hagrids laundry pile as Harry landed atop of them.

"He may be down oh wait WAIT HE HAS THE SNITCH POTTER HAS THE SNITCH." The crowd burst into mild applause and the results were Gryffindor 471 Slytherin 0. Harry heard none of this, though. He was being brought back to the living world in Hagrid's hut, with Neville and Hermione.

"It was crazy," Nevile was explaining, "Hermione and I saw him. He was on fire throttling Ron you couldn't take your eyes off of it. "

Harry sat up groaning "I found out something about him," he told Hagrid. "He had a tattoo of some hot red head above his mangled leg. It looked like a big fuck off dog maulled him."

Hagrid dropped the teapot. "How do you know about Fluffy?" he said. "Fluffy?"

"Yeah bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub last' year I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the"

"Exsqueeze me you own that fucking monstrocity?" said Harry eagerly.

"Now, don't ask me anymore," said Hagrid gruffly. "That's top secret, that is. "

"But it's in a school of literally hundreds of children"

"I'm tellin' yeh, yer wrong!" said Hagrid hotly. "I don't know why Dumbledore thought this was a good idea! Now, listen to me, you're meddling in things that don't concern you. It's dangerous. You forget that dog, and you forget what it's guarding, that's between Professor Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel."

"Who the fuck is Nicolas Flamel?"

Hagrid looked furious with himself.


	12. Everyone loves the Restricted section

_**A.N. Hey guys sorry I'm late, but I'm sober this time. Got dragged to a family thing, whats the deal with familys wanting to be involved in you life huh? I got like 20 games to get through and 2 more which arrived today.**_

_**Anyways Harry Potter dumb things violence yadda yadda.**_

Chapter 12

Much like a teen who finds a discarded dirty magazine Christmas was coming. One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts woke to find itself covered in several feet of snow. The lake froze solid and the Weasley twins were severely punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban, they also told him the yellow snow was lemon flavoured.

Quirrell soon found out that was a lie. It wasn't the first time the turban had issued detentions nor would it be the last.

The few owls that managed to battle their way through the stormy sky, owl eating monsters and Hagrid to deliver mail had to be nursed back to health in secret lest they get thrown in a stew.

No one could wait for the holidays to start. While the Gryffindor common room and the Great Hall had roaring fires, the drafty corridors had become icy and a bitter wind rattled the windows in the classrooms. Worst of all were Professor Snape's classes down in the dungeons, where their breath rose in a mist before them and they kept as close as possible to their hot cauldrons, or burning bodies of a fellow student who ended up set ablaze.

"I do feel so sorry," said Draco Malfoy, one Potions class, "for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they're not wanted at home. OR HAVE DEAD PARENTS!"

He was looking over at Harry as he spoke. Crabbe and Goyle chuckled unable to see the sarcasm they just thought she was being nice. Harry, who was measuring out powdered spine of lionfish, ignored them. Malfoy had been even more unpleasant than usual since the Quidditch match. Disgusted that the Slytherins had lost, he had tried to get everyone laughing at how Harry is an orphan. Then he'd realized that nobody really cared about Quidditch and he was being a bit of a dick. He was also irked because of the way Harry had managed to stay on his bucking broomstick, He had only ever seen moves like that when his dad got on the mechanical bull and Harry didn't even have the hat or boots for it. So Malfoy, jealous and angry, had gone all in taunting Harry about having dead parents.

Harry wasn't going back to Privet Drive for Christmas. Professor McGonagall had come around the week before, making a list of students who would be going home for the holidays, and Harry had hesitated weighing up who he would hate to put up with more Ron or Aunt Marge. With Marge at least you could get rid of her by going up a gentle slope. He sat debating this mentally for so long McGonagall had passed him assuming he was staying.

He didn't feel sorry for himself at all; this would probably be the third best Christmas he'd ever had. He reasoned he could have his cake and eat it too (not literally because he had to keep his figure for the summer; Mrs Figg could sense when he has cheated on his diet) Ron amazingly had a family who didn't disown him (they were outvoted, by the rest of the world) so he reasoned he could have a christmas by himself.

Harry was wrong.

Ron and his brothers were staying, too, because Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were going to Romania to visit Charlie figured trying to speak to him in person would stop him from slamming the door in their faces and saying 'Good Grief'.

Mr. and Mrs Weasley were also wrong.

When they left the dungeons at the end of Potions, they found a large fir-tree blocking the corridor ahead. Two enormous feet sticking out at the bottom and a loud puffing sound told them that Hagrid was behind it and likely masturbating. "Hi, Hagrid, want any help?" Neville asked, sticking his head through the branches. "Nah, I'm all right, thanks, Neville. Also Ron you try taking anything from my coat again I'm going to punch you."

"Would you mind moving out of the way?" came Malfoy's cold drawl from behind them. "I'm trying to decide who smells worse; Weasley or the simpleton." Ron dived at Malfoy just as Snape came up the stairs. "WEASLEY!" Ron let go of the front of Malfoy's robes.

"Oi tell him Ron smells worse than me, Professor Snape," said Hagrid, sticking his huge hairy face out from behind the tree. "Malfoy was talking bullshit."

"Be that as it may, talking bullshit is not against Hogwarts rules, Hagrid," said Snape silkily. "Five points from Gryffindor, Weasley, and be grateful it isn't more. Take a fucking shower."

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle pushed roughly past the tree, scattering needles everywhere and smirking, until Hagrid punched him in the arm. Violence wasn't against the rules in Hogwarts, it is in fact encouraged. "I'll get him," said Ron, putting Malfoy's watch on his filthy wrist and grinding his teeth at Malfoy's back, "one of these days, I'll get him."

"I hate you both," said Harry, "Snape is okay."

"Come on, cheer up, it's nearly Christmas," said Hagrid. "Tell you what, come with me and see the Great Hall, looks a treat."

So the group followed Hagrid and his tree off to the Great Hall, where Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick were busy with the Christmas decorations. "Ah, Hagrid, where have you been? Oh you idiot that tree has been on the grounds since the founders. Look it has a fucking sign and everything."

The hall looked okay. Festoons of holly and mistletoe hung all around the walls, and no less than twelve towering Christmas trees stood around the room, some sparkling with tiny icicles, some glittering with hundreds of candles. "How many days you got left until yer holidays?" Hagrid asked.

"Just one," said Hermione. "And that reminds me Harry, Neville, we've got half an hour before lunch, we should be in the library. "

"Oh yeah, you're right," said Neville, tearing his eyes away from Professor Flitwick, who had golden bubbles blossoming out of his wand and was trailing them over the branches of the new tree.

"The library?" said Hagrid, following them out of the hall. "Just before the holidays? Nerds."

"Oh, we're not working," Harry told him brightly. "Ever since Ron wiped his ass with a library book he got banned so we can get some peace."

They had been searching books for Flamel's name ever since Hagrid had let it slip, mostly because Hermione is obsessive compulsive. The trouble was, Harry did not care and Neville had a weak spine, they mostly pretended to be looking for Flamel but Harry mostly tried to find information on Quidditch. So far he had only found a leaflet titled 'So you ruined your life' with a laughing wizard on the front and another titled 'The fuck is Quidditch' with a wizard and a witch shrugging at each other.

Hermione was also having trouble finding Flamel. He wasn't in Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century, or Notable Magical Names of Our Time; he was missing, too, from Important Modern Magical Discoveries, and A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry. And then, of course, there was the sheer size of the library; tens of thousands of books; thousands of shelves; hundreds of narrow rows. Harry asked her why she didn't just ask the librarian to help since she is a you know librarian.

Harry was ignored, he was slowly learning that teenage girls don't exactly adhere to logic, he then asked Neville the same thing. He was again ignored he slowly learned teenage boys don't exactly adhere to logic.

People are hard you guys.

Hermione took out a list of subjects and titles she had decided to search while Neville strode off down a row of books and started pulling them off the shelves at random. Harry wandered over to the Restricted Section. He had wondered for a while if Flamel wasn't somewhere in there. Unfortunately, Harry entirely misread exactly what the section was. Unless Flamel was laying nude on a bearskin rug or spread eagle on a bale of hay, he would definitely not be in there. Normally the only people seen entering and leaving the hanging bead entrance of the section was the professors all of them; EVERY SINGLE ONE. Though Filch was in and out of there 5 or 6 times a day.

"What are you looking for, boy?"

"Nothing," said Harry. Madam Pince the librarian brandished a feather duster at him. "You'd better get out!" Madam Pince has protected young impressionable students from the dangers of the forbidden section for years. Sadly she would never be able to do so when wizards invent the internet, which would be never so we're good? Wishing he'd been a bit quicker at thinking up some story, Harry left the library.

Harry waited outside in the corridor to see if the other two had found anything, but he wasn't very interested. They had been looking for two weeks, but as they only had odd moments between lessons and Harry never really helped it wasn't surprising they'd found nothing. What he really needed was a nice long bath to warm up as if was very cold. Five minutes later, Neville and Hermione joined him, shaking their heads. They went off to lunch. "You will keep looking while I'm away, won't you?" said Hermione. "And send me an owl if you find anything."

"I'm not looking now, I still cant understand why youre even looking."

"And you could ask your parents if they know who Flamel is," said Neville showing his lack of backbone. "It'd be safe to ask them."

"Very safe, as they're both dentists, you cretin" said Hermione.

Once the holidays had started, Harry was having too good a time to think much about anything really. He had the dormitory to himself except for Ron but he spent most of his time robbing the empty dorms and the common room was far emptier than usual, so he was able to hide by the good armchairs by the fire. He sat enjoying the quiet and plotting ways of getting Malfoy and Ron expelled, which were fun to think about even if they wouldn't work. Nothing seemed to work.

On Christmas Eve, Harry went to bed looking forward to the next day for the food and the fun, but not expecting any gifts at all. When he was awoken early in the morning, about four, by the smell of stale scotch and crashing about he saw someone in a red costume tossing the parcels at people before stumbling out the room singing 'burnin for you'. When he woke up later, the first thing he saw was a small pile of packages at the foot of his bed knowing it wasnt a dream.

Harry spoke in amazement. "Will you look at this? I've got some presents!"

"What did you expect, nothing?" said Ron,("I kinda did actually") turning to his own pile, which was a lot bigger than Harry's mostly because he had stolen the second bag Filch was supposed to be giving out.

Harry picked up the top parcel. It was wrapped in thick brown paper and scrawled across it was To Harry, from Hagrid. Inside was a roughly cut wooden flute. Hagrid had obviously whittled it himself. Harry blew it sounded a bit like an owl. Harry was appreciative for the present but Hagrid did give shit gifts so far. A second, very small parcel contained a note.

We received your message and enclose your Christmas present. From Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. Taped to the note was a fifty-pence piece and a photo of Vernon readying a punch. "They got me this last year," said Harry.

Ron was fascinated by the fifty pence because he is a monster and it is money.

"You can fuck right off Ron," said Harry, annoyed that even though he has stolen from half the school that it isn't enough. "Hagrid and my aunt and uncle so who sent these?"

"I think I know who that one's from," said Ron, turning a bit pink and pointing to a very lumpy parcel. "My mom. I told her you didn't expect any presents and oh, no," he groaned, "she's made you a Weasley sweater. "

Harry had torn open the parcel to find a thick, hand-knitted sweater in emerald green and a large box of homemade fudge.

"Every year she makes us a sweater," said Ron, unwrapping his own, "and mine's always maroon. "

"That's really inappropriate of her," said Harry, wrapping up the sweater and fudge so he could return it. He has the note all planned out. It went like 'Dear Mrs Weasley, while I thank you for the holiday wishes I cannot accept this gift. In our first meeting to loudly stated a racist remark, rudely cut across me in conversation then drew attention to my dead parents, you also called me rude and reeked of vodka. I don't know you or most of your family and I hate Ron. Please do not respond. Yours sincerely Harry Potter.'

His next present also contained candy a large box of Chocolate Frogs from Hermione, she also supplied a card with a few too many x's. This only left one parcel. Harry picked it up and felt it. It was very light. He unwrapped it. Something fluid and silvery gray went slithering to the floor where it lay in gleaming folds. Ron gasped.

"I've heard of those," he said in a hushed voice, dropping the box of Every Flavor Beans he'd stolen from some Ravenclaw kid "If that's what I think it is, they're really rare, and really valuable."

"What is it?" Harry said pointedly trying to ignore Rons salivating and growing erection. Harry picked the shining, silvery cloth off the floor. It was strange to the touch, like water woven into material. "It's an invisibility cloak," said Ron, a look of awe on his face. "I'm sure it is try it on." Harry threw the cloak around his shoulders and Ron gave a yell. "It is! Look down!"

Harry looked down at his feet, but they were gone. He dashed to the mirror. Sure enough, his reflection looked back at him, just his head suspended in midair, his body completely invisible. He pulled the cloak over his head and his reflection vanished completely. "There's a note!" said Ron suddenly. "A note fell out of it!" Harry pulled off the cloak and seized the letter. Written in narrow, loopy writing he had never seen before were the following words:

Milk, Eggs, Bread.

Bacon, Salt, Pepper.

Soothing cream, ask Minny what it's called.

Bin bags.

There was no signature and it kind of kept going on like that. Harry stared at the note. Ron was admiring the cloak. "I'd give anything for one of these," he said. "Anything. What's the matter?"

"You," said Harry. He felt very strange. Who had sent the cloak? How was he going to keep it from Ron?

Before he could say or think anything else, the dormitory door was flung open and Fred and George Weasley bounded in. Harry stuffed the cloak quickly out of sight. He didn't feel like sharing it with anyone else yet.

"Merry Christmas!"

"Hey, look Harry's got a Weasley sweater, too!"

"Not for long."

Fred and George were wearing blue sweaters, one with a large yellow F on it, the other a G.

"Harry's is better than ours, though," said Fred, holding up Harry's sweater. "She obviously makes more of an effort if you're not family. "

"I'm sending it back." Said Harry taking it back and wrapping it up, and it wasnt that good it looks like she started writing 'Eri' before stopping.

"Why aren't you wearing yours, Ron?" George demanded. "Come on, get it on, they're lovely and warm. "

"I hate maroon," Ron moaned halfheartedly as he pulled it over his head.

"You haven't got a letter on yours," George observed. "I suppose she thinks you don't forget your name. But we're not stupid - we know we're called Gred and Forge. "

"What's all this noise?"

Percy Weasley stuck his head through the door, looking disapproving. He had clearly gotten halfway through unwrapping his presents as he, too, carried a lumpy sweater over his arm, which Fred seized.

"P for prefect! Get it on, Percy, come on, we're all wearing ours, even Harry got one. "

"Its going back will someone listen to me here?"

"I don't oh god no" said Percy thickly, as the twins forced the sweater over his head, knocking his glasses askew. Percy wished they hadn't, this was the one covered in his mothers vomit.

"And you're not sitting with the prefects today, either," said George. "Christmas is a time for family. "

They frog-marched Percy from the room, his arms pinned to his side by his sweater.

Harry had many times in seen such a Christmas dinner. A hundred fat, roast turkeys; mountains of roast and boiled potatoes; platters of chipolatas; tureens of buttered peas, silver boats of thick, rich gravy and cranberry sauce - and stacks of wizard crackers every few feet along the table. The Vernon, Marge and Dudley usually ate way more than that

These fantastic party favors were nothing like the feeble Muggle ones the Dursleys usually bought, with their little plastic toys their flimsy paper hats inside and the shitty shitty jokes. Harry pulled a wizard cracker with Fred and it didn't just bang, it went off with a blast like a cannon and engulfed them all in a cloud of blue smoke, while from the inside exploded a rear admiral's hat and several live, white mice. Up at the High Table, Dumbledore had swapped his pointed wizard's hat for a flowered bonnet, and was chuckling merrily at a joke Professor Flitwick had just read him. Harry ended up screaming as the last thing he wanted on christmas was his face to explode into live vermin.

Flaming Christmas puddings followed the turkey. Percy nearly broke his teeth on a silver sickle embedded in his slice. Harry watched Hagrid getting redder and redder in the face as he called for more wine, finally kissing Professor McGonagall on the cheek, who, to Harry's amazement, growled and swung a mighty right hook, knocking Hagrid from the high table to the floor shouting "NO, MEANS NO YOU BASTARD" her top hat lopsided.

When Harry finally left the table, he was laden down with a stack of things out of the crackers, including a pack of nonexplodable, luminous balloons, and his own new wizard chess set. The white mice had disappeared and Harry had a nasty feeling they were going to end up in his room due to the amount of crumbs lying around the dorm.

It wasn't the first time the Gryffindors had to deal with wild animals one morning Harry awoke to a moose eating from the garbage bin which is Ron Weasleys trunk. Ron was of course furious after Harry told him (he was going to eat that garbage) and set off to "Settle his hash" but it would be his hash that would be settled. The house all waited and listened to the yells of Ron sounding like 'Hey get out of there' and 'Yeah I'm talking to you' followed by a scream. In what then became a national holiday for the Gryffindors Ron was forcibly carried down the dorm stairs punching the moose in the head and thrown through the wall juuuuust next to the fat ladys portrait.

The Students were so happy they didn't question 1. Whether Moose live in Scotland, 2. How a Moose got into the Gryffindor Dorm rooms and 3. What they were going to do with the wild animal now in the tower.

(though later the answer to 3 would be; give it a medal.)

Harry and the Weasleys spent an annoying afternoon having a furious snowball fight on the grounds. They were not expecting the sudden assault from Hagrid and the Hufflepuffs but no one ever does. Then, cold, wet, and gasping for breath, they returned to the fire in the Gryffindor common room, where Harry broke his new chess set, he was already a nerd adding plays chess was just overkill.

After a meal of turkey sandwiches, crumpets, trifle, and Christmas cake, everyone felt too full and sleepy to do much before bed except sit and watch Percy chase Fred and George all over Gryffindor tower because they had put his hand in warm water when he was napping. It didn't make him wet himself but no one likes waking up with a wet hand.

It had been an okay Christmas day. Yet something had nagged at the back of his mind all day. Not until he climbed into bed was he free to think about it: the invisibility cloak and whoever had sent it.

Ron, full of turkey, cake and malice, fell asleep almost as soon as he'd drawn the curtains of his four-poster. Harry leaned over the side of his own bed and pulled the cloak out from under it. Making sure he was not being watched. He had tried locking his trunk with magic but it hadn't stopped Ron. He didn't know that Ron could get past any magical lock by breaking it from the trunk

He let the material flow over his hands, smoother than silk, light as air. He had to try it, now. He slipped out of bed and wrapped the cloak around himself. Looking down at his legs, he saw only moonlight and shadows. It was a very funny feeling.

Suddenly, Harry felt wide-awake. The whole of Hogwarts was open to him in this cloak. Excitement flooded through him as he stood there in the dark and silence. He could go anywhere in this, anywhere, and No one would never know.

Ron grunted in his sleep. Should Harry smother him? Something held him back, oh right he's a sort of good person.

He crept out of the dormitory, down the stairs, across the common room, and climbed through the portrait hole. "This shit again? fucking James." squawked the Fat Lady still mostly asleep. Harry said nothing. He walked quickly down the corridor.

Where should he go? He stopped, his heart racing, and thought. And then it came to him. The Restricted Section in the library. He'd be able to read as long as he liked, as long as it took to find out what is in those paper bags the always grinning and often blushing faculty staff took out of the area. He set off, drawing the invisibility cloak tight around him as he walked.

The library was pitch-black and very eerie. Harry lit a lamp to see his way along the rows of books. The lamp looked as if it was floating along in midair, and even though Harry could feel his arm supporting it, the sight gave him the creeps.

The Restricted Section was right at the back of the library. Stepping carefully through the beads that separated these books from the rest of the library, he held up his lamp to read the tities.

They didn't tell him much. Their peeling, faded gold letters spelled words Harry couldn't understand, the only word he could make out was 'housewife'. Some had no title at all. One book had a stain on it that looked horribly like mayonnaise. He hoped it was mayonnaise. The hairs on the back of Harry's neck prickled. Maybe he was imagining it, maybe not, but he thought a faint whispering was coming from the books, as though they knew someone was there who shouldn't be.

He had to start somewhere. Setting the lamp down carefully on the floor, he looked along the bottom shelf for an interesting looking book. A large black and silver volume caught his eye. He pulled it out with difficulty, because it was very heavy, and, balancing it on his knee, let it fall open.

A piercing, bloodcurdling shriek split the silence, What was that woman doing to that guy? what were the clamps for? How did that thing even fit inside? Harry snapped it shut, but he could not get the image out of his head so the shriek went on and on, one high, unbroken, earsplitting note. He stumbled backward and knocked over his lamp, which went out at once. Panicking, he heard footsteps coming down the corridor outside stuffing the stuffing book back on the shelf, he ran for it. He passed Filch in the doorway; Filch's pale, wild eyes looked straight through him, and Harry slipped under Filch's outstretched arm and streaked off up the corridor, the image still haunting him.

He came to a sudden halt in front of a tall suit of armor. He had been so busy getting away from the library, he hadn't paid attention to where he was going. Perhaps because it was dark, he didn't recognize where he was at all. There was a suit of armor near the kitchens, he knew, but he must be five floors above there. "You asked me to come directly to you, Professor, if anyone was wandering around at night, and somebody's been in the library Restricted Section. And in my private collection to boot."

Harry felt the blood drain out of his face. Wherever he was, Filch must know a shortcut, because his soft, greasy voice was getting nearer, and to his horror, it was Snape who replied with the unmistakable loading of a gun, "The Restricted Section? Well, they can't be far, not with a hard on that big."Harry stood rooted to the spot as Filch and Snape came around the corner ahead. They couldn't see him, of course, but it was a narrow corridor and if they came nearer they'd knock right into him, the cloak didn't stop him from being solid.

He backed away as quietly as he could. A door stood ajar to his left. It was his only hope. He squeezed through it, holding his breath, trying not to move it, and to his relief he managed to get inside the room without their noticing anything. They walked straight past, and Harry leaned against the wall, breathing deeply, listening to their footsteps dying away. That had been close, very close. It was a few seconds before he noticed anything about the room he had hidden in.

It looked like an unused classroom. The dark shapes of desks and chairs were piled against the walls, and there was an upturned wastepaper basket which Harry took a second to vomit into, but propped against the wall facing him was something that didn't look as if it belonged there, something that looked as if someone had just put it there to keep it out of the way.

It was a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. There was an inscription carved around the top: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. His panic fading now that there was no sound of Filch and Snape, Harry moved nearer to the mirror, wanting to look at himself but see no reflection again. He stepped in front of it.

He had to clap his hands to his mouth to stop himself from screaming. He whirled around. His heart was pounding far more furiously than when the book had screamed for he had seen not only himself in the mirror, but a whole crowd of people standing right behind him. But the room was empty. Breathing very fast, he turned slowly back to the mirror.

There he was, reflected in it, white and scared-looking, and there, reflected behind him, were at least ten others. Harry looked over his shoulder but still, no one was there. Or were they all invisible, too? Was he in fact in a room full of invisible people and this mirror's trick was that it reflected them, invisible or not? No it wasn't, he reasoned, that would be dumb.

He looked in the mirror again. A woman standing right behind his reflection was smiling at him and waving. He reached out a hand and felt the air behind him. If she was really there, he'd touch her, their reflections were so close together, but he felt only air she and the others existed only in the mirror. It was quite lucky considering his height he would have likely slapped her tits if she had been there.

She was a very pretty woman. She had dark red hair and her eyes are just like mine, Harry thought, edging a little closer to the glass. Bright green exactly the same shape, but then he noticed that she was crying; smiling, but crying at the same time. The tall, thin, black-haired man standing next to her put his arm around her. He wore glasses, and his hair was very untidy. It stuck up at the back, just as Harry's did.

Harry was so close to the mirror now that his nose was nearly touching that of his reflection.

"Mom?" he whispered. "Dad?"

They just looked at him, smiling. And slowly, Harry looked into the faces of the other people in the mirror, and saw other pairs of green eyes like his, other purt lips like his, even a little old man who looked as though he had Harry's magnificent eyelashes. Harry was looking at his family, for the first time in his life. It was like staring at Ru Paul's Drag Race.

The Potters smiled and waved at Harry and he stared back at them, his hands pressed flat against the glass as though he was hoping to fall right through it and reach them. He had a powerful kind of ache inside him, half joy, half terrible sadness. Then Harry had a horrible realisation, upon closer inspection his mother looked exactly like the nude woman tattooed on Snapes lower back.

How long he was hunched over throwing up, he didn't know. The reflections did not fade and he hurled and hurled until a voice brought him back to his senses.

"Harry?"

Harry felt as though his insides had turned to ice. He looked behind him. Leaning out of the storage cupboard by the wall was none other than Albus Dumbledore. Harry must have ran straight past him, so desperate to get to the wastepaper basket he hadn't noticed him. "I didn't see you, sir. "

"Strange how nearsighted being ill can make you," said Dumbledore, and Harry was relieved to see that he was smiling.

"So," said Dumbledore, slipping out of the closet to sit on the floor with Harry, "you, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised." His voice noticibly higher due to being in his pajamas, his tendency to not wear underpants and an icy floor.

"I didn't know it was called that, Sir. "

"But I expect you've still to realize what it does?"

"Nope I know. it shows what our hearts desire. "

Dumbledore turned to Harry a little confused. "How did you know?" Dumbles was a little miffed he had this whole speech planned.

"The inscription gave it away." panted Harry with a quick wave to the top of the mirror "Its written backwards, hardly rocket science sir." Dumbledore looked at the mirror. Huh he had never noticed that.

"Yes," said Dumbledore quietly. "It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate want of our hearts. You, who have never known your family, see them standing around you. Now Ronald Weasley, who has always been overshadowed by his brothers, would see himself standing alone, as the world burns around him. However, this mirror will give us neither knowledge or truth only a good half hour. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible but that's the stupid ones. The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, Harry, and I ask you not to go looking for it. If you ever do run across it, you will now be ready. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that. Now, why don't you put that admirable cloak back on and get off to bed?"

Harry shakily stood up. "Sir? Can I ask you something?"

"Obviously, you've just done so," Dumbledore smiled. "You may ask me one more thing, however. "

"Sarcasm thanks. What do you see when you look in the mirror?"

"I see myself making out Johnny Depp while I get cheered on by huge crowds."

Harry stared. That did sound fairly awesome. "Think I could see myself doing that?"

"Goodnight Harry." Said Dumbledore trying to hurry him away to hide the fact his old bare ass is now frozen to the floor.

It was only when he was back in bed that it struck Harry that Dumbledore had come out of a closed closet. What the hell was he doing in there?

_**A.N. thats it go home. next time more quidditch pfffh though Now I have to decide what to play Crash team racing or bloodstained.**_


	13. Are there no secrets in this school?

_**A.N. Hey you, listen I'm sorry about last week I really wanted to be there but some things beyond my control came up. I want YOU to know, which I now say as I hold your hand gently rubbing your knuckle with my thumb, I am committed to this to us and this crappy piece of writing.**_

_**As such I name this chapter after the guy who broke into my house. This chapter is called "WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU, GET THE FUCK OUT, I DONT CARE HOW DRUNK YOU ARE GET THE FUCK OUT GET THE FUCK OUT hello police just a second GET THE FUCK OUT GET THE FUCK OUT .**_

_**And so on.**_

Chapter 13

Harry decided not to go looking for the Mirror of Erised again, and for the rest of the Christmas holidays the invisibility cloak stayed folded at the bottom of his trunk, with only 4 theft attempts by Ron. Harry wished he could forget what he'd seen in the restricted section as easily, but he couldn't. He started having nightmares. Over and over again he dreamed about various objects disappearing up someone's anus. Just like Richard Gere and the gerbil. The last time Harry had nightmares this bad was when he though his Uncle Vernon would eat him when he was four, which to the four-year old Harry's credit almost happened, he had woken up in the middle of the night in between slices of bread and a sleepwalking Vernon looking for mayonnaise.

Hermione, who came back the day before term started, was torn between horror at the idea of Harry being out of bed, roaming the school, and disappointment that he hadn't at least found out who Nicolas Flamel was. Not that he even tried. Hermione was also confused about Dumbledore. "So he was in there the entire time? And just came out of the closet?", "Yes, I went back the next day and there's no hidden door or anything in that closet.", "What?" "I KNOW RIGHT!"

Hermione had almost given up hope of ever finding Flamel in a library book, even though Harry was sure he'd read the name somewhere; not that he really cared. Once term had started, they were back to skimming through books for ten minutes during their breaks. Harry had even less time than the other two, because 'whatever sport they were doing instead of Quidditch' practice had started again.

Wood was working the team harder than ever. Even the endless rain that had replaced the snow couldn't stop his campaign of crazy. The Weasleys complained that Wood was fucking nuts. If they somehow won their next match, against Hufflepuff, they would overtake Slytherin in the house championship for the first time in seven years, putting them in third place. Quite apart from wanting to win, Harry found that he had fewer nightmares when he was tired out after fishing all day.

Then, during one particularly wet and muddy session, Wood gave the team a bit of bad news. He'd just gotten very angry with the Weasleys, who kept rocking the fishing boat.

"Will you stop messing around!" he yelled. "That's exactly the sort of thing that'll lose us the catch! Oh yeah did you hear Snape's refereeing this time, and he'll be looking for any excuse to knock points off everyone!" George Weasley really did fall off the boat at these words.

"Snape's refereeing?" he spluttered through a mouthful of mud. "When's he ever refereed a Quidditch match? He's not going to be fair if he is hungover. " The rest of the team pulled George from the lake to complain, too.

"I don't know fellahs," said Wood. "I heard Hooch is in no state to do it, someone broke into her sleeping quarters and stole what's left of her parents, and Snape fell asleep at the staff meeting so he got forced into it." Which explained why a dishevelled Madam Hooch was grabbing students at random and screaming "WHERE ARE THEY? WHO DID IT?", thought Harry even if he was more pissed that Ron had gotten chocolate milk mix from somewhere, but he had another reason for not wanting Snape near him while he was playing Quidditch, mostly because of the tattoo of his mother.

Harry decided to meet up with Hermione and Neville in the library rather than go to the Gryffindor common room, first because he was told to and second the common room was doing a public showing of some show and he hadn't really been following it; he was a season behind and didn't want to risk spoilers.

He found Hermione at the back of the library hidden behind a giant pile of books, he was going to have to put them back the girl never cleans the table after reading. "Don't talk to me for a moment," said Hermione when Harry sat down next to her, "I need to concen" She caught sight of Harry's face. He's so pretty. "What's wrong? You look sad." Speaking quietly, because they were in a library, Harry told her about Snape's sudden, sinister punishment to be a Quidditch referee. She was also horrified about madam Hooch. "Don't play," said Hermione at once.

"I can't," said Harry. "McGonagall warned me if I pulled any crap like that she would kick my ass back to the stone age."

At that moment Neville toppled into the library. How he had managed to move at all was anyone's guess, because his legs stuck together with what they recognized at once as the Leg-Locker Curse. He must have had to bunny hop all the way up to their table.

Hermione leapt up and performed the countercurse. Neville's legs sprang apart and he got to his feet, trembling. "What happened?" Hermione asked him, leading him over to sit with Harry.

"Malfoy," said Neville shakily. "I met him outside the library. He said he'd been looking for someone to practice that on."

"Go to Professor McGonagall!" Hermione urged Neville. "Report him!" Neville's shoulders slumped further "I did! All she did was stare then gave me detention. Oh and this," he mumbled slamming a crowbar on the table. "Why did she give you detention?" Harry said quirking an eyebrow, giving students weapons was normal for him now, because you know Hogwarts. Neville shrugged "She said it was for 'establishing an alibi' whatever that means." I know what it means.

Harry felt in the pocket of his robes and pulled out a Chocolate Frog, the very last one from the box Hermione had given him for Christmas. He gave it to Neville, who looked as though he might cry.

"You're worth twelve of Malfoy, I mean your hair alone looks just amazing" Harry said. "The Sorting Hat chose you for his hair styling tips, didn't it? And Malfoy? His hair looks like a slicked back mess."

Neville's lips twitched in a weak smile as he unwrapped the frog. "Thanks, Harry, I think I'll go to bed." (The hell you are, get a book and start looking). "D'you want the card, you collect them, don't you?"

As Neville sighed and grabbed a book, Harry looked at the Famous Wizard card hoping it would be the rare shining golden Filch card.

"Dumbledore again," he said, "He was the first one, ah hell." He hid a gasp. He stared at the back of the card. Then he looked up at Neville and Hermione pretending he hadn't just found Flamel.

"Harry found him!" "fuck" "Listen to this: 'Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel'!"

Hermione jumped to her feet. She hadn't looked so excited since they'd gotten back the marks for their very first piece of homework.

"Stay there!" she said, and she sprinted up the aisle to another part of the library. Harry and Neville barely had time to exchange looks one of confusion the other of annoyance before she was dashing back, an enormous old book in her arms.

"I never thought to look in here!" she whispered excitedly. "I got this out of the library weeks ago for a bit of light reading." "See what you did Neville, see what happens." said Harry, but Hermione told him to be quiet until she'd looked something up, and started flicking frantically through the pages, muttering to herself.

At last she found what she was looking for. "I knew it! I knew it!"

"Let's get this over with." said Harry grumpily. Hermione ignored him.

"Nicolas Flamel," she whispered dramatically, "is the only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone!"

This didn't have the effect she'd expected. "The what?" said Neville. "Don't care." said Harry

"Oh, honestly, Look read that, there." She pushed the book toward them, and Pair read:

The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Sorcerer's Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal. There have been many reports of the Sorcerer's Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr. Nicolas Flamel, the noted alchemist and opera lover. Mr. Flamel, who celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year, enjoys a quiet life in Devon with his wife, Perenelle (six hundred and fifty-eight).

"See?" said Hermione, when Neville had finished, Harry just wondered what the hell they would even have to talk about after 600 years of marriage. "The dog must be guarding Flamel's Stone! I bet he asked Dumbledore to keep it safe for him, because they're friends and he knew someone was after it, that's why he wanted the Philosopher's Stone moved out of Gringotts!"

"Hey Hermione the book calls it a Sorcerer's stone." said Neville. Hermione snapped the book closed with a glare eliciting a yelp from Neville knocking a curl out of place "This book was published elsewhere and they changed the name for no reason. Every stone would be a sorcerer's stone, and the Philosopher's stone is an established legend. It is so stupid! what kind of country is dumb enough to do that?" She ranted as though wanting to get this off her chest.

They heard a sad sniff near the group and turned to see the star-spangled form of Usher Steve Adams lip all aquiver. "Hey Usher I didn't" She began but he had already shuffling away albeit with far less energy than usual. Even the music that followed him took on a slower pace.

"Well that's just great Hermione." Harry growled out "way to go, upset the greatest guy in our year, It's like you don't even want to go to the Hufflepuff end of term bash. AND Hufflepuff is still pissed about the whole birthday party thing." Hufflepuffs throw the best parties.

It was earlier that week where in a surprisingly stern morning announcement Dumbledore, rather than read graffiti he finds in the toilet stalls, announced that the Hufflepuff birthday party tradition would be henceforth banned due to the damage done to the common room, the dungeons, the kitchens, the Ravenclaw dorm, the bathrooms, his own personal bathroom, his towels and his collection of signed photos. The rest of the school was frankly shocked and were more so when they followed the glare of a hundred badgers and most of the Hufflepuff students (the ones not crying) to the gangly form of Ron Weasley stuffing his face.

As the match drew nearer Harry became more and more annoyed, Hermione and Neville they would not shut up about it. The rest of the team wasn't too calm, either. The idea of playing Quidditch had that effect on most people.

Harry didn't know whether he was imagining it or not, but he seemed to keep running into Snape wherever he went. At times, he even wondered whether Snape was following him, trying to catch him on his own. Potions lessons were turning into a sort of weekly annoyance, Snape was trying to be so horrible to Harry. Living with Dudley and now Ron has hardened him to people bullshit. Sometimes had the horrible feeling that Snape could read minds (Spoiler for book 5: He can).

Harry hardly heard a word of Wood's pep talk it was mostly bullshit until the end "So let's light a doobie in the name of Brometheus." McGonagall chose this moment to check in on the team and froze as she saw her students in the middle of lighting some joints. After an uncomfortable silence while she rebooted from the sheer rage she felt she gave her pre match encouragement "I just wanted to tell you all, Good luck we are all counting on you." After the head of Gryffindor left muttering about the amount of detention some students were going to get, Wood had taken Harry aside.

"Don't want to pressure you, Brah, but if we ever need an early capture of the Snitch it's now. Finish the game before Snape can finish his third hip flask. He gets violent when drunk."

"The whole school's out there!" said Fred Weasley, peering out of the door. "Even Dumbledore's come to watch! He usually gets lost." Harry's heart did a somersault. "Dumbledore?" he said, dashing to the door to make sure. Fred was right. There was no mistaking that silver beard. "Where did he get that hotdog?"

"I've never seen Snape look so awful," Neville told Hermione. "He should never wear shorts. I have never seen anything so pale. look they're off. Ouch!" Someone had poked Neville in the back of the head. It was Malfoy.

"Oh, sorry, Longass, didn't see you there." Malfoy grinned broadly at Crabbe and Goyle, while limping on his crutches. The night prior he had been in bed when he was awoken by two people wearing masks one seemed like an old scottish woman the other a boy with great hair. They didn't say anything but they broke his ankles with their crowbars.

"Wonder how long Potter's going to stay on his broom this time? Anyone want to bet? What about you, Weasley?"

Ron didn't answer as he had already hiked his robes up to moon Malfoy; Snape had just awarded Hufflepuff a penalty because of the bitter old virgin rule; apparently that is a thing. Hermione, who had all her fingers crossed in her lap, was squinting fixedly at Harry and not for the first time, who was circling the game getting power ups like the magic missile, again not knowing the rules sent it at the only players name he could remember. Terrence Higgs whose face appeared on the jumbotron looking worried confused and eating his hotdog.

"You know how I think they choose people for the Gryffindor team?" said Malfoy loudly as a small explosion sent his fellow Slytherin into a pile of Hagrid's underwear. There is only one thing you need to know about Hagrids underwear they may seem to be camo patterned what with the browns green and yellows but they were all originally white.

"It's people they feel sorry for. See, there's Potter, who's got no parents, then there's the Weasleys, who've got no money, you should be on the team, Longbottom, you've got no class."

Neville went a little red but turned in his seat to face Malfoy with a nasty grin. "How are the ankles Malfoy?" he jibed. Malfoy sneered, Crabbe, and Goyle smiled thinking it was nice of Neville to ask about her broken ankles, but Ron, wanting to get into a fight with a kid on crutches, said, "You starting something asshole?"

"Oh lord you smell so bad Weasley I can taste it ugh it's like rotten feet." Ron's nerves were already stretched to the breaking point with the moose taking his bed.

Gryffindors being the natural jocks they are, fall into glaring and posturing when members of the team or pack are threatened. Many thoughts raced through the children's minds as their fellow students got injured in a 'sport'?. Most of them were about how much they hated Ron with the notable exception of Crabbe and Goyle. Crabbe was wondering why Malfoy decided to attend the game with broken ankles and not wait for the nurse to stop laughing, he supposed it was because of her crush, she could be such a handful sometimes. As Crabbe shook his head with a coy smile Goyle stared right back at a glaring Neville thinking 'Boy his hair is great and look at how hard he's staring Goyle; he must want this too. Wait do I call myself Goyle in my own mind. How messed up is that? I am Gregory' He thinks smiling a little proudly ' No I am Greg, yeah Greg, everyone likes Greg' He finished nodding happily.

Harry had become bored not really sure what he should be doing he watched the quiz round which Gryffindor won (the Hufflepuff student got the answer right but he forgot to put his hand on his head), he had also sent another missile at Higgs and one at Snape attacking the ref is a legitimate strategy. There was a low buzzing nearby and turning towards it he spied a glowing gold ball flying next to him like a loyal puppy. "What the hell are you?" He said with some curiosity gently plucking the ball out of the air.

"POTTER HAS THE SNITCH! POTTER HAS THE SNITCH" As the crowd burst into mild applause and Ron bust into mild fistycuffs with a crippled Malfoy, Harry looked at the ball nuzzling his palm affectionately in confusion "I have the Snitch? What the fuck is the Snitch? Are you the Snitch?"

"Neville! Neville! Where are you? The game's over! Harry's won!" shrieked Hermione, dancing up and down on her seat and hugging Parvati Patil in the row in front. "He's so Hot!" "I know right!" Neville was talking to Greg "So spray when damp, not wet, it works I'm telling you."

Harry jumped off his broom, a foot from the ground. He couldn't believe it. He'd done it the game was over; it had barely lasted five minutes. As Gryffindors came spilling onto the field, he saw Snape land nearby, ashen faced and on fire. Harry felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up into Dumbledore's smiling face.

"Well done," said Dumbledore quietly, so that only Harry could hear. "Now we don't have to be subject to a long day of Quidditch." Dumbledore raised his voice so the rest of the crowd could hear him "Now if we could all make our way to the lake the Blitzball game will be starting shortly hmm what do you mean it's not a real thing Minerva I know what I saw dammit."

Harry left the locker room some time later, to take his Nimbus Two Thousand back to the broomshed. He couldn't ever remember feeling happier. He walked over the damp grass, reliving the last hour in his head, which was a happy blur: Neville Hermione in the distance, jumping up and down, Ron unconscious due to a heavy nosebleed. Crabbe had a mean left hook and doesn't appreciate violence against crippled women.

A hooded figure came slowly down the front steps of the castle. Clearly not wanting to be seen, it walked as fast as possible, which was not all that fast considering the visible injuries, toward the forbidden forest. Harry's victory faded from his mind as he watched. He recognized the figure's prowling walk. Snape, sneaking slowly into the forest while everyone else was at dinner. Well not his problem?

"Is that Snape?" Damn it Neville. Harry sighed as Hermione looked over "Well it's his walk, what do you think he's doing?" "Don't want to know, especially since he's carrying a bag from the restricted section."

That was the wrong thing to say. Hermione is determined to find out what Harry saw in the Restricted Section ever since he stumbled into it, her interest had only increased after the first time it got brought up when Harry adopted a faraway look. The kind of look you get when you have stared into the deepest parts of the abyss or in Harry's case the deepest part of a guys rectum.

So the trio argued about numerous things in the space of a few minutes. These were, in order, Why should they care? Should they follow Snape? Was that a bad idea? Why should they care? How should they follow Snape? Would Harry's broom carry all three of them? Why should they care? What order should they sit on the broom? And why should they care?

The answers they settle on in a two thirds majority to the above was (also in order) I want to find out, yes, probably, I want to find out Harry, yes, I told you already Harry, Harry in the middle and HARRY THIS IS HAPPENING!

Harry jumped back on his Nimbus Two Thousand, Neville sat behind him ("That not the broom Nev, there you go") and Hermione in front (he was oddly comfortable with this) and took off. Gliding silently over the castle he saw Snape enter the forest at a limp. they followed.

The trees were so thick he couldn't see where Snape had gone. He flew in circles, lower and lower, brushing the top branches of trees until he heard voices. He glided toward them and landed noiselessly in a towering beech tree. He climbed carefully along one of the branches, holding tight to his broomstick, trying to see through the leaves.

Below, in a shadowy clearing, stood Snape, but he wasn't alone. Quirrell was there, too. Harry couldn't make out the look on his face, but he was stuttering worse than ever. Harry strained to catch what they were saying.

"don't know why you wanted t-t-to meet here of all p-places, Severus" "Oh, I thought we'd keep this private," said Snape, his voice icy. "Students aren't supposed to know about the Philosopher's stone, after all." Harry groaned. "Ah ha I told you the stone was being hidden here Gloria." Harry, Neville and Hermione all looked to the source of the voice, in the next tree over there seemed to be some Ravenclaws whispering, "What are you guys doing here?" Neville whispered "Ravenclaw Reporters" the girl known as Gloria whispered back "We've been looking into this whole giant monster dog and whats its guarding for JJ." Another whisper broke the silence "I see so that's what the Cerberus is guarding." Came a deeper whisper from another tree, everyone turned to the tree and saw a group of Hufflepuffs with telescopes "And you are?" Gloria snorted with mirth "Ah yes the 'Hufflepuff Happenings' always a step behind on a scoop." "We got that exclusive interview with Filch, Gloria. The names Ted by the way." Said Ted whispering furiously but quietly. Gloria and Ted have a rivalry going but its all to hide the sexual tension. "Please." came yet another whisper "The Slytherin Solvers knew about the stone since Christmas." The three groups all turned to a third tree with four Slytherin students grinning smugly. Gloria's eyes narrowed "You got Hagrid drunk and he told you didn't you." The Slytherins nodded.

"You make it sound like I can't keep a secret." Came Hagrid's sad mumbling from another tree. Harry smacked his head against his hand "Hagrid what are you doing here?" he groaned out in annoyance. "Everyone was doing it I just wanted to be popular."

"CAN THE TALKING TREES PLEASE SHUT UP SNAPES TRYING TO ACT TOUGH HERE!" Yelled Quirrell's turban.

"Have you found out how to get past that beast of Hagrid's yet?"

"B-b-but Severus, I-"

"You don't want me as your enemy, Quirrell," said Snape, taking a step toward him.

"I-I don't know what you-"

"You know perfectly well what I mean. "

"KISS HIM!" the Turban yelled as Snape's greasy nose was centimetres away from Quirrell's

An owl hooted loudly, and Harry screamed and promptly fell out of the tree. "FUCK!" he yelled as he his the floor. "MIND YOUR FUCKING LANGUAGE,you rude bush," the Turban admonished

"Very well," Snape snapped. "We'll have another little chat soon,can't even get a second in this school, when you've had time to think things over and decided where your loyalties lie. "

As Snape turned to leave he heard someone sarcastically cough "loser." Snape turned back rolling up his sleeves. The students and turban were treated to a bitch fight between Snape and Quirrell. It was really pathetic.

After 15 minutes the groups decided to leave when the two professors started pulling hair.

Back in the common room Hermione and Neville talked about what they heard while Harry removed thorns from his body.

"So we were right, it is the Philosopher's Stone, and Snape's trying to force Quirrell to do something. He asked if he knew how to get past Fluffy. The Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs and Slytherin's seem to think Quirrell is trying to steal it. Hagrid seems to think Snape has a crush on Quirrell."

"I'm going to bed." Harry said having enough for the day, and the author agreed.

_**A.N. Thanks for sticking with me so far not the best I know but next week we have Hagrid. You like Hagrid right? and hes breaking laws and stuff and its going to be magical I sorta promise.**_


	14. Oh Hagrid no, Hagrid no

_**A.N. Hey guys I am so tired. Also this is a personal issue but you know when you are in a garden centre and you tell the guy you dont think the plants have been watered because the soil is dry, remember and I want you to do this for me your best friend that THERE IS A GIANT BALL OF FIRE IN THE FUCKING SKY THAT HEATS UP THE EARTH YOU ABSOLUTE MORON.**_

Chapter 14

In the weeks that followed after his scuffle then make out session with Snape, Quirrell seemed to be getting paler and paler not that you could tell he was always very pale. Also considering the ripped robes and strong smell of dog urine it was safe to say that he was unsuccessful at getting past the dangerous monster left hungry in a school. Also Fluffy apparently adds insult to injury, or he was farming demon fangs maybe.

Every time they passed the third-floor corridor, Neville and Hermione would press their ears to the door to check that Fluffy was still growling inside, Harry wondered who cleaned out the room, Aunt Marges dogs shat everywhere and often so he could only imagine what explodes from Fluffy. Snape was mincing about in his usual bad temper, which surely meant that it was a Monday. Whenever Harry passed Quirrell these days he ignored him completely, though he greeted the Turban as the turban turned out to be a pretty cool guy. Ron had started telling people to laugh at Quirrell's stutter, that got him detention or it would if Quirrell could finish a fucking sentence.

Hermione, however, had more on her mind than the teenage bullshit. She had started drawing up study schedules and colour coding all her notes. Harry and Neville wouldn't have minded, but she kept nagging them to do the same.

"Hermione, the exams are ages away. "

"Ten weeks," Hermione snapped. "That's not ages, that's like a second to Nicolas Flamel."

"No it isn't," Harry told her. " Just because he is old doesn't mean time goes any faster or slower, ten weeks will still be ten weeks. Anyway, why are you getting up in arms about this?"

"What am I studying for? Are you crazy? You realize we need to pass these exams to get into the second year? They're very important, I should have started studying a month ago, I don't know what's gotten into me"

"Hermione, sweetie, I mean this in the nicest way to pass your first year here you just need to be able to write your name. This school is a joke."

Unfortunately the teachers seemed to be in a bad mood. They piled so much homework on them that the Easter holidays weren't nearly as much fun as the Christmas ones. It was hard to relax with Hermione next to you reciting the twelve uses of dragon's blood or practicing wand movements. Complaining the entire time and scared to say anything, Harry and Neville spent most of their free time in the library with her, trying to get through all their extra work.

One afternoon Harry, who was still looking up the rules of Quidditch was distracted by Neville saying " Oh god what is that smell? Oh Hagrid! What are you doing in the library? You can't read."

Hagrid shuffled into view, hiding something behind his back. He looked very out of place in his moleskin overcoat. "Jus' lookin'," he said, in a shifty voice that got their interest at once. "An' what're you lot up ter?" He looked suddenly suspicious. "Yer not still lookin' fer Nicolas Flamel, are yeh?"

"Oh, we found out who he is ages ago," said Neville impressively. "And we know what that dog's guarding, it's a"

"Shhhh!" Hagrid looked around quickly to see if anyone was listening. "Don't' go shoutin' about it, what's the matter with yeh?"

"We already know" "Us too" "Knew ages ago" "You guys talking about that stone?" Came multiple replies from around the area.

Harry looked around "Do these guys follow us around?" before he shrugged it off (though the answer was yes, yes they are following them around). "There are a few things we wanted to ask you, as a matter of fact," said Harry, "First question being what are you doing here you were banned."

"SHHHH!" said Hagrid again. "Listen come and see me later, do I have a surprise, also be cool don't let that old cranky bitch know I here."

"Hagrid." said Harry pointing lazily behind the giant man. Hagrid turned slowly and saw the glaring librarian tapping her foot "Fuck."

If you had told Harry that morning that he would be witness to Madam Pince throwing Hagrid out of the library like DJ Jezzy Jeff he would have thought you were full of shit.

"What was he hiding behind his back?" said Hermione thoughtfully.

"Do you think it had anything to do with the Stone?"

"I'm going to see what section he was in," said Neville, who'd had enough of working. He came back a minute later with a pile of books in his arms and slammed them down on the table.

"Shit!" he whispered. "Hagrid was looking up stuff about dragons! Look at these: Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland; From Egg to Inferno, A Dragon Keeper's Guide."

"Hagrid's always wanted a dragon, he told me the first time I ever met him, " said Harry.

"But he needs a permit otherwise it's against our laws," said Neville. "How does he get a permit?" "Fill in a form, you also need to have passed basic wizarding education." Harry sighed he knew for a fact Hagrid hasn't done either. "Are there wild dragons in Britain?" said Harry.

"Of course there are," said Neville. "Look there's one now." he added, pointing at a giant hole in the wall where a long scaly neck attached to a sleeping lizard head lay. "I thought that was a statue." Harry added idly "Nope that's a Common Welsh Green. The Ministry of Magic has a job shushing them up, I can tell you. Our kind have to keep putting spells on Muggles, to make them forget." Both Hermione and Harry stared at Neville with narrowed eyes "About the Dragons right?" Neville sat silent for a second then nervously smiled "Sure."

When they knocked on the door of the gamekeeper's hut an hour later, they were surprised to see that all the curtains were closed. That was never a good sign, especially if your greatest fear was Hagrid with no pants on. Hagrid called "Who is it?" before he let them in, and then shut the door quickly behind them.

It was stifling hot inside. Even though it was such a warm day, there was a blazing fire in the grate. Hagrid made them tea and offered them stoat sandwiches and beer, which they refused.

"So - yeh wanted to ask me somethin'?"

"Yes," said Harry. There was no point beating around the bush. "We were wondering what the fuck were you thinking." Hermione chided him by slapping him across the back of the head, Neville took this opportunity to ask one of the questions Ted, from the Hufflepuff Happenings, gave him to ask "Could tell us what's guarding the stone apart from Fluffy. "

Hagrid frowned at him.

"Of course I can't," he said. "Number one, I don't know myself. Number two, you know too much already, so I wouldn' tell ye if I could. That Stone's here fer a good reason. It was almost stolen outta Gringotts, by someone else. I suppose you've worked that out? Nerds. Beats me how ya even know about Fluffy."

"His location was announced by the headmaster at the start of the year and we are teenagers being told not go somewhere. I'm surprised no one is dead." Well that was true as far as Harry knew.

"Oh, come on, Hagrid, you might not want to tell us, but you do know, you know everything that goes on around here," said Hermione in a warm, flattering voice. Hagrid's beard twitched and they could tell he was smiling. He was probably a little drunk. "We only wondered who had done the guarding, really. " Hermione went on. "We wondered who Dumbledore had trusted enough to help him, apart from you. "

Hagrid's chest swelled at these last words. Harry shook his head in disbelief, was this all it took to get him to spill the beans

In fact it usually took less, Hermione neglected to say please.

"Well, I don' s'pose it could hurt ter tell yeh that (It probably will Hagrid) he borrowed Fluffy from me. . . then some o' the teachers did enchantments, Professor Sprout, Professor Flitwick, Professor McGonagall," he ticked them off on his fingers, "Professor Quirrell, Professor Sarcasmo, Babs, Filch and Dumbledore himself did something, of course. Hang on, I've forgotten someone. Oh yeah, Professor Snape. "

"You're the only one who knows how to get past Fluffy. aren't you, Hagrid?" said Harry anxiously. "And you wouldn't tell anyone, would you? Not even one of the teachers?"

"Not a soul knows except me, Dumbledore, Filch, Professor Sarcasmo, Babs The Ravenclaw Reporters, the Hufflepuff Happenings, the Slytherin Solvers, whoever was at the pub a few days ago and the school band. " said Hagrid proudly.

"Why the school band?," Harry muttered to the others. "Hagrid, can we have a window open? I'm boiling." Neville said

"Can't, Neville, sorry," said Hagrid. Harry noticed him glance at the fire. Harry looked at it, too.

"Hagrid you are a fucking moron arn't you?" But he already knew what it was. In the very heart of the fire, underneath the kettle, was a huge, black egg.

"Ah," said Hagrid, fiddling nervously with his beard, "That's er"

"Where did you get it, Hagrid?" said Neville, crouching over the fire to get a closer look at the egg. "It must've cost you a fortune."

"Won it," said Hagrid. "Last night. I was down in the village having a few hundred drinks and got into a game of cards with a stranger. Think he was quite glad ter get rid of it, to be honest." The man was glad to be away from Hagrid to be honest. "But what are you going to do with it when it's hatched?" said Hermione.

"Well, I've been doing some reading'," said Hagrid, pulling a large book from under his pillow. "You can't read Hagrid." "Got this outta the library, Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit a lot of it is porn but once you get past it the info it's all in here. Keep the egg in the fire, because their mothers breathe on them, see, and when it hatches, feed it on a bucket of brandy mixed with chicken blood every half hour. And see here how to recognize different eggs what I got there's a Norwegian Ridgeback. They're rare, them."

He looked very pleased with himself, but Hermione and Harry didn't.

"And dangerous if the red skull and crossbones are anything to go by."

"Hagrid, you live in a wooden house," she said. "And illegal" Harry added.

But Hagrid wasn't listening. He was humming merrily as he stoked the fire "Hagrid get rid of the egg otherwise I'm calling whoever the hell we call." Harry threatened.

So now they had something else to worry about: what might happen to Hagrid if anyone found out he was hiding an illegal dragon in his hut.

"Wonder what it's like to have a peaceful life," Harry sighed, as evening after evening they struggled through all the extra bullshit they were getting. Hermione had now started running interference as the school newspaper clubs were looking for an exclusive with Harry .

Then, one breakfast time, Hedwig brought Harry another note from Hagrid. He had written only two words: It's hakching.

Ron and Hermione argued all the way to Herbology and in the end, Hermione agreed to run down to Hagrid's with the other two during morning break, if only to get away from Ron. When the bell sounded from the castle at the end of their lesson, the three of them dropped their trowels at once and hurried through the grounds to the edge of the forest. Hagrid greeted them, looking flushed and excited.

"It's nearly out. " He ushered them inside. "It should be gone Hagrid."

The egg was lying on the table. There were deep cracks in it. Something was moving inside; a funny clicking noise was coming from it.

They all, except Harry who was here despite his protest, drew their chairs up to the table and watched with bated breath.

All at once there was a scraping noise and the egg split open. The baby dragon flopped onto the table. It wasn't exactly pretty; Harry thought it looked like a crumpled, black umbrella. Its spiny wings were huge compared to its skinny jet body, it had a long snout with wide nostrils, the stubs of horns and bulging, orange eyes.

It sneezed. A couple of sparks flew out of its snout.

"Isn't he beautiful?" Hagrid murmured. He reached out a hand to stroke the dragon's head. It launched itself at a screaming Nevilles.

"Bless him, that's mah boy!" said Hagrid.

"Hagrid," said Hermione, "how fast do Norwegian Ridgebacks grow, exactly?" ignoring Neville trying to remove the thing from his face. Hagrid was about to answer when the color suddenly drained from his face he leapt to his feet and ran to the window.

"What's the matter?"

"Someone was looking' through the gap in the curtains he's running' back up to the school. "

Harry bolted to the door and looked out. Even at a distance there was no mistaking him.

Ron had seen the dragon. "It's just Ron. Anyways Just let him go," Harry urged. "Send him to a habitat."

"I can't," said Hagrid. "He's too little. He'd die. "

They looked at the dragon. It had grown three times as violent in just a few minutes. Smoke kept furling out of its nostrils. The dragon was now furiously humping Harry's leg. Hagrid hadn't been doing his gamekeeping duties because the dragon egg was keeping him so busy. There were empty brandy bottles and chicken feathers all over the floor but that was normal for Hagrid. Even as pissed a Harry was he was going to give him a sort of last chance.

"Hagrid," said Harry loudly, "You have 24 hours to get rid of this thing."

The following day dragged by Harry in his new pants since Hagrid's baby dragon had humped a bunch of rips in his other pair sat in the great hall with Hermione and Neville eating breakfast. They felt an annoying smell and person approach. "Yes Ron." The group turned in disgust to the red headed bastard known as Ron Weasley who was smiling "Listen you guys I've solved the dragon problem." This caused some raised eyebrows, mostly from the other people within earshot who immediately listened in at the words 'dragon' and 'problem'. Harry and the others were skeptical Ron never usually solved problems he normally started them or made them far worse in ways you could not even imagine.

"How?" Harry asked despite his instincts screaming not to ask. Ron grinned a crooked yellow smile and sat down pushing Neville to the floor. "Well you see I have a brother who works with dragons, so I told him and asked him to help us get rid of it in secret." As Ron spoke Hedwig fluttered down with a letter next to Harry "Ah there's his reply." Harry narrowed his eyes at Ron "Isn't that brother in Romania, you found out yesterday there is no way she could have made that journey." He asked removing the reply from his owl Ron scoffed "Everyone knows owls can teleport."

Everyone did in fact not know this and the owls were now pissed at Ron for revealing that.

Ignoring his snowy owl giving a look that said 'shut up you are giving the game away asshole' the group read the reply.

Dear Ron,

I was surprised to have received a letter from your for two reasons. First I was unaware you were even able to read and write. Second as I told you during Eric's funeral I never want to hear from you again.

Your plan for me to get my friends to smuggle an illegally held dragon is one of the stupidest things I have ever heard and I was there when you tried to steal christmas Good Grief.

I have informed the proper authorities and they will be enroute to collect the dragon before Hagrid does something even more idiotic.

NEVER CONTACT ME AGAIN!

Charlie

Harry tried not to smack his head on the table at this and idly wondered how long they had before the proper authorities would show up. This was answered when a body flew through the window of the great hall landing between the tables.

A middle aged man in a robe adorned with the letters DMC covered in glass and cuts raised a shaking hand to grab the nearest student and whispered out "Tell my wife, her casserole sucks. BLEH." he passed out. The school immediately jumped up and ran towards the front doors.

Staring down at Hagrids hut they watched as multiple people all wearing the casserole hating ministry worker attempt to get past a shirtless Hagrid.

The students all burst into cheers and sat down on the field and steps as Hagrid leapt from the wall of his pumpkin patch towards a screaming lady just doing her job.

"Oh and a beautiful flying body slam from Hagrid, we got a real slobberknocker here for you now folks." Came the voice of another Ministry worker sat at an announcer table seemingly commentating on the brutal assault of his colleagues.

"Who the hell is that?" Harry asked as the man commented on another german suplex. "I think that is Ludo Bagman, he is in the department of magical sports I think." Replied Neville eating a hot dog. "Where did you get that? Where do people keep getting these hot dogs?"

Hermione had her head in her hands barely able to watch Hagrid ram his knee into someones back "AND I SWEAR TO GOD HE'S BROKEN IN HALF!"

"Spines don't bend that way he is like an inverted V how is that possible." Hermione stammered out in shock unsure whether or not to throw up. "It is very possible Miss Granger." came an airy and old voice, the trio turned and saw Dumbledore standing behind them with a soda and a hotdog and a gentle smile "Did you not pay attention to your classes with Professor Sarcasmo?" Harry wondered where he got the hot dog. "I don't understand?" She asked still unsure "His classes are just 20 minutes of him calling us names then he puts on Space Jam." Harry cut in "CAN SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME WHERE I CAN GET A HOTDOG?" Dumbledore's eyes seemed to go into twinkle overdrive "Exactly" He said as though it explained anything, after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence and twinkling Harry broke the quiet "Explain as though we didn't get it Sir." With a small chuckle whether it was at them or the old ministry worker being hit with a piledriver. "Professor Sarcasmo teaches you everything you will need to know about the wizarding world. First that you will be insulted every day and second that the normal rules of physics don't apply." The two teenagers stared never breaking eye contact not even when a pretzelled worker flew past "Perhaps an example" Dumbledore wheezed out "Severus would you come over here please." Snape grumpily appeared "they're out of hotdogs." (Fuck) "What did you need Proff ugh." Snape was cut off abruptly when his neck grabbed by Dumbledore was stretched an extra 2 feet. "But that's not." Hermione began unsure of what she was witnessing "I know Hermione, but what did we just see."

Shaking that image which would shake them for years to come the group turned back to the fight as DMX started to blare from the school speakers. "Is that?" Started Ludo Bagman still commentating "It is! Its Madam Bones!" he yelled to thunderous applause. The head of the DMLE ran towards the pumpkin patch at a brisk pace, catching a folded steel chair as she went. With a single leap she cleared the patch wall raising the chair she struck the worker sneaking up on Hagrid. "It's a doublecross a double cross". Ludo screamed as Hagrid and MAdam Bones high fived.

In all fairness when the call for help was made they did not specify who needed help.

It looked bad for the ministry workers just trying to do their job in fact it was only the timely appearance of Steve the Security Goblin and the Enforcer that turned the tide of battle.

What followed was not pleasant for anyone not the ministry workers trying to pull the baby dragon of their faces not the crying Hagrid snotty and screaming with his legs in the wrong direction, nor for Harry when he let it slip that he told Hagrid this would happen, which caused McGonagall to choke on her hotdog.

"Why did you not inform a member of Staff Mister Potter." the head of house growled out with a hand on his shoulder. "Because I wanted to give him a chance, since he is a friend." Harry stammered nervously while losing all feeling where her iron grip held.

"That is such a sweet sentiment" She said with a small smile "You are still getting detention."

Opening a beer and laying back on his sun lounger Filch chipped in with his most sage of wisdom "well aren't we are in trouble."

_**A.N. yep so I'm off later.**_


End file.
